ScoobyDoo Meets Death Note
by silvaaeterna
Summary: L already has his hands full trying to catch the infamous Kira, and now there's a rogue shinigami scaring the citizens of Tokyo. Supernatural monsters aren't really L's forte, so it's time to call in the experts - the Scooby-Doo gang! DN/Scooby crossover.
1. A Groovy Twist

**Summary:** L already has his hands full trying to catch the infamous Kira, and now there's a rogue shinigami scaring the citizens of Tokyo! Supernatural monsters aren't really L's forte, so it's time to call in the experts - the Scooby-Doo gang! Death Note / Scooby-Doo crossover!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note or Scooby-Doo, I just borrow their characters for random crack-ness on occasion (although I like to think of it as pretty high-quality crack, thank you). Please, please don't sue me?

**A/N:** This whole chapter is pretty much an introduction. Yes, it's long, but despite the ridiculous nature of this story, I'm gonna try to make this as true to DN as is possible. Impossible? Maybe, but I have way too much respect for DN and all its characters to make this a _complete_ parody. Certain things have been reworked to accommodate my plot, so don't flame me saying I got something from the canon wrong if you haven't bothered reading all my notes. There's another author note at the end of this chapter in case any of my changes were unclear, so hopefully by then you'll have a good understanding of the whole situation. If you find any _other_ stuff wrong, though, feel free to let me know, because how else would I be able to fix it?

* * *

**Chapter 1: A Groovy Twist**

L was frustrated.

It felt as if the Kira investigation was coming to a standstill. There was no solid evidence to be found, and his sole suspect gave him almost nothing to go on. The only reason he still felt the need to further investigate Light Yagami was his glaring innocence itself. The boy's record was so clean, the righteous morals inherited from his police chief father ingrained so deeply into his psyche, his academic standing so high, he had good looks and social charm – everything about him was so perfect, so _maddeningly_ perfect.

L calculated a five percent chance that his remaining suspicions were just a stubborn result of jealousy; yes, he was the world's three greatest detectives in one body, but he was a far cry from perfect. Yagami – he was on a different level altogether from L, and yet was one of the only people he'd ever met that could challenge his intellect. There was circumstantial evidence that pointed to Light being Kira, but that same evidence pointed equally to every member of the families Raye Penbar had investigated. It was only L's personal suspicions that kept the spotlight on the Yagami boy, but with his father on the investigation team, he couldn't pursue him outright without a more concrete lead. Soichiro's protests of his family's innocence had already forced L to remove the cameras and bugs – not that they had actually revealed anything, but L would have preferred to leave them in place much longer to be sure.

Thus, L was forced to gather evidence on Light in a more active way than he was used to – not only had he enrolled at the same college, but today he had offered Light a place on the task force. L hoped this would placate, perhaps even please, his proud and upstanding father while allowing him to still keep close surveillance on his suspect. After all, it had been four months since Kira's arrival, and this was his only lead – even if it did hinge on some admittedly baseless suspicions.

Grasping the mug's handle with just his thumb and index finger, L took a long sip of his sugary coffee, quickly figuring up the likelihood of Light, the college student and son of a policeman, agreeing to join the investigation against the many different arguments he could use to persuade him. How would that likelihood be affected if he were also Kira..?

"So, do you have any proof, Ryuuga?"

L blinked slowly. Light, sitting across the table from him, seemed more than a bit perturbed by the wide-eyed blank stare that L had been giving him these past few minutes. L removed the mug from his lips, only to replace it with the thumbnail of his free hand as he sat the coffee back down.

"Proof of what, Yagami-kun?" L lightly chewed his thumbnail, hoping to replace the lingering taste of the lukewarm coffee. The last few sugars he'd added to it had not fully melted – the sweet sludge these had created was the only thing that had made that long sip palatable.

"Are you even paying attention to your own interrogation? I asked you if you've got any proof that you yourself are not Kira, because if you don't, there's no reason I should trust your offer to let me join the team," Light continued, scowling ever so slightly. "Of course, if you can prove that you really _are_ L, that would be proof enough that you're _not_ Kira."

L removed the thumb from his mouth, now listening more intently.

"I need to be able to trust you, and the only way to do that would be for someone I already trust, such as my father or another officer involved in the investigation, to confirm for me that you are L. If you refuse me that much, the deal is off," Light firmly declared. L fought to keep from smirking; maybe his suspicions hadn't been so baseless.

"You know, I don't recall saying that you couldn't meet others from the team, Yagami-kun." Yes, he could feel it – that tiny twitch at the corners of his mouth. The look of shock on Light's face, which he undoubtedly thought to be well-hidden, was just delightful. Likelihood of being Kira was now... seven percent. "I am currently working alongside your father on the investigation. If I brought you to headquarters and allowed him to confirm my identity, would that be convincing enough of my invitation's sincerity?"

Light was speechless, dumbfounded. It was indeed a golden moment as L childishly indulged in his small victory, but this moment was ended all too abruptly as a squealing, high-pitched whine filled the little cafe.

"_Li-ight_!"

L fought the instinct to shove his fingers into his ears, forcing himself to keep his hands on his bent-up knees and his eyes as blank as ever. The only sign of his discomfort was the slightly more vigorous twitching of his bare toes against the wooden seat of the chair.

"Over here, Misa," Light apathetically called out, waving his arm in the air. He didn't bother to turn around to face his mysterious screeching guest – L wondered briefly if her voice was bothering him as well.

A second later, a bouncing blonde in a short-cut black dress appeared behind Light's chair. Her face seemed familiar somehow, but L couldn't place it. He instead amused himself by counting all the various Gothic-style accessories adorning her: necklaces, bracelets, skull barrettes in her hair..

"Light," she whined, wrapping her arms around his neck, "you said you would call Misa today!"

"Misa, it's barely past lunch time. There's still plenty of today left," Light explained, an uneasy grin plastered on his face. For only the second time in the last half-hour, L blinked. The main pitfall of being popular with everyone, he supposed, was being popular with those one didn't necessarily like. He watched with interest as the girl – she certainly looked like just a girl, perhaps 15 or 16, although being in this cafe on a college campus seemed to suggest she was older, he reasoned – as this _woman _happily plopped down in Light's lap.

"Yeah, but Light-kun obviously has time now, and he's spending it with a guy instead of calling his girlfriend," she said, an exaggerated pout evident on her dark red lips. For the first time, she looked over at L. "Although," she seemed to ponder, "he is a pretty unique-looking guy."

L's eyes widened ever so slightly. He _did_ know that face!

"I'm Light's girlfriend, Misa Amane. Nice to meet you!" she said cheerily, her delicate hand giving him a casual wave.

"Ryuuga Hideki," L replied simply, popping his thumb back into his mouth again.

"Like the pop idol? That's so cool!" L couldn't help noticing the bored, perhaps annoyed look on Light's face. Such a girlfriend as her, and he didn't even seem interested at all. Life could be so unfair...

"I envy you, Yagami-kun," L said quietly. Light looked back at him with disbelief, and something else. Was there something about this relationship that he hadn't wanted L to know about? Those pesky corners of L's mouth finally were freed from his tight mental control, creating an almost creepy sort of smile around his thumb. "You're really dating _the_ Misa-Misa?" he continued, eyes darting between the grinning blonde and the dumbfounded Light.

"Oh wow, I guess I'm becoming a real household name!" Misa gushed.

"Yes, well," Light began, shifting slightly beneath the model's weight, "we met at a party a few nights ago. Some friends from class invited me. Of course I didn't realize it was such a big event that even a famous model would be there." That fake grin had returned to his face. Light was uncomfortable, no question.

"It was love at first sight, right Light-kun?" Misa interrupted.

"Right," Light uneasily agreed. L removed the thumb from his mouth again and began to idly stir the now cold coffee, although he had no intention of finishing it. Light was popular enough with women – he'd been seen casually dating several since enrolling at the college – so why was he staying in a relationship with Misa, who he obviously did not like very much? He didn't seem to care about her fame, but he also didn't seem to mind lying to her when he agreed to her small declaration of love, so why bother keeping up such appearances unless there was something more to it?

For all this obvious manipulation, the likelihood of Light being Kira rose to nine percent.

"Oh, Light-kun, have you seen the news today?" Misa suddenly asked.

"No, why?" he answered apathetically.

"It turns out that Kira is actually a rogue shinigami! This big flying monster showed up in Aoyama and started terrorizing people, and a bunch of people who got too close to it had heart attacks and died, right there!"

For once in his life, L sat straight up. Dropping his stirring spoon, he slammed his hands down on the table.

"When did this happen? How many people died?" he asked frantically, wide eyes boring into the shocked Misa.

"It was only a little while ago, I heard it on the radio on the way here!"

"Exactly how long ago?" L demanded.

"I.. I don't know, really. Maybe an hour?" Misa stammered, a bit taken aback by the quiet and unkempt man's sudden outbursts. L began to slouch slightly again.

"Yagami-kun," he began slowly, pondering, "did you in fact go to class before meeting me here?" Light just stared at the detective incredulously.

"Come on, Ryuuga," he finally said, with a slight chuckle, "I know I'm a suspect and all, but I'm no shinigami, as you can plainly see. Besides, it was probably just a prank or something."

"But they said that people died all around where the shinigami had been! He flew around in circles, and a minute or so after he had passed, people just fell over dead!" Misa protested.

"Hush, Misa, darling," Light said cheerfully, patting her head like a child. "It's probably just one of those stupid radio dramas – some station is playing a prank on the whole city by spreading rumors like that."

Light had a point. After all, if this had been a real event, surely Watari would have contacted him about it by now. Perhaps it was just some sort of prank. L returned to his former level of slouching, his wide eyes becoming dull again. Never any real leads...

_Eru netsu masani desu paireetsu!_

All three of them jumped slightly at the sudden burst of music.

_  
Aganau houritsu geemu..._

Suddenly whipped back into reality, L reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the offending cell phone.

_  
Zetsubou za birii iza rinri  
Saa tomerarenai eraser rain!_

"Cool ringtone," Misa commented, her cheerful voice quiet for once.

He flipped it open, holding it between just two fingers, and gingerly pressed the "Talk" button.

"Yes, Watari?" he casually answered. Light and Misa could only hear a garbled voice on the other end, but whatever they were saying, it seemed urgent. Light watched carefully as L's eyes widened.

"I understand. We are in the cafe at the university, meet us out front," L said quickly before snapping the phone shut.

"Us?" Light repeated softly. L chose to ignore him for the moment, looking toward Misa again as he rose from his seat.

"I'm terribly sorry, Amane-san, but Light and I need to leave immediately," he told her politely.

"Um, okay," she reluctantly agreed, standing up as well. She looked back toward Light, who was still seated and looking a bit confused. "Call me later, Light-kun?" she whined, although more softly now.

"Of course, Misa," he quickly replied. Despite their hurry, it seemed to L that brushing her off like that was odd for someone in love. Something was definitely suspicious about the whole thing, he decided as he reluctantly stuffed his sock-less feet back into his shoes.

"Okay, bye bye Light-kun!" Misa chimed, waving as she headed out of the cafe. Only then did Light rise from his seat.

"So, what's going on? And what does it have to do with me?" Light asked, once he was sure Misa was gone. L simply shuffled toward the door, motioning for him to follow.

"It seems," said L as they reached the outside, "that the shinigami incident was no prank, after all." Light stared back at him, wide-eyed. L gave a strangely satisfied smirk. "What a convenient time for you to join the task force, Yagami-kun."

* * *

"Pretty tight security for a hotel," Light muttered. He had observed Watari undergo a fingerprint and retina scan as they drove into the underground garage. Even after this, both L and Watari had gone through another checkpoint within the building. Light himself had been registered in their security database, had his retinas and all ten fingerprints scanned in, and even had a three-dimensional computer model of his face created as back-up. They were finally on their way to headquarters, but Light was sure he would have gotten lost in the dimly lit, unremarkable halls without his enigmatic companion leading the way.

"Its construction was finished just last week," L explained, not bothering to turn around to face him. "This entire building is our headquarters, although most of the floors are, indeed, populated by hotel-like rooms."

"What's the point of that?" Light asked. "It's not as if anyone off the street can waltz in and see whether this is a real hotel or not."

"Those with families, like your father, return home at night. The rest of us live here, in those rooms," L replied, turning his head just far enough to meet Light's eyes, "as will you, Yagami-kun."

"You mean to say I'm forbidden from going home to see my family?" Light demanded, his eyes aglow with all the fire of the dedicated son that Soichiro Yagami had made him out to be. L frowned and again faced away from the boy. It was either another facet of his perfection, or an extremely corny act.

"You are not merely another investigator, you are also a suspect. You cannot expect equal treatment," L stated, his voice now a cold monotone. The finality of his voice was enough to convince Light to finally shut up. Watari, who walked along behind him, continued to quietly observe.

After some silent minutes more, there was finally a break in the dark, windowless walls – a large double door, which Light could only hope was finally headquarters.

"Here we are," L quietly commented, as if answering Light's own thoughts. He opened the door maddeningly slowly for Light's tastes, revealing, at last, the first truly well-lit room in this whole depressing building. An entire wall was covered with huge monitors, an odd glass staircase sat nearby, and couches and coffee tables were strewn all about. The team members, whom Light recognized from the minor cases he had helped with in the past, were gathered around a large table covered with laptops and stacks of paper. They rose from their seats as the three entered. No one bothered with any actual introductions.

"So you've agreed to join us, Light!" Soichiro exclaimed with a proud smile as he approached his son. The middle-aged police chief, his hair already going grey, seemed quite pleased with this – after all, not only was it an opportunity to show off his son's skill, but also to finally rid L of his ridiculous suspicions of him being Kira.

"Please confirm my identity for him, Yagami-san," L said quickly, cutting off any response Light might have made. "He has agreed to join only on condition of trust."

"Oh, of course," the elder Yagami replied, somewhat taken aback by L's curtness. "Light, this man is, in fact, L, but for security reasons, we refer to him here only as Ryuuzaki."

"Proof enough for you, Yagami-kun?" L asked, an almost annoyed stare fixed on Light's face.

"Yes, thank you," Light answered, uncertain as he tried to read the eccentric detective's expression. Without another word, L shuffled over to the large desk in front of the wall of monitors and sat in his strange, hunched squat on a wheeled office chair. How he managed such a feat, Light couldn't imagine. L immediately began to type something, and soon multiple news shows were playing on the large monitors, all of them covering the same story – the shinigami in Aoyama.

"Aizawa-san," L said suddenly, not taking his large black eyes off the monitors, "please brief Yagami-kun on all information we have on the Kira case so far."

"Right," said Aizawa, still standing with the rest of the team around the work area. Whether they had been waiting for some sort of introductions or just for orders, even they did not know, but the tense feeling that had surrounded the room kept them from relaxing. Wordlessly, Aizawa led the much shorter Light to a far corner of the room, carrying with him a stack of papers and laptop.

"The rest of you," L continued, "I want every scrap of information to be found on this Aoyama incident, and the exact times of death for every criminal killed by Kira today."

"Already got it, Ryuuzaki!" Matsuda exclaimed, half-jogging over to L with his own laptop in tow. L quickly looked over the information they had gathered, his slight scowl deepening into a frown.

It made no sense at all. Kira's judgements for the day seemed to center around the time of the shinigami's appearance, but at the same time, the people around the shinigami had been killed. Why these innocent bystanders? And more importantly, why was Kira, a mass murderer who saw himself as righteous, as a god ridding the world of evil, resorting to such cheap theatrics? A cheesy monster costume to scare the very people who already lived in fear of his "divine" judgement? Some kind of taunt to L himself, or even retribution, punishing the innocent people of Japan for his discovery of Kira's location?

Or suppose, although he paled just thinking about it, the shinigami was _real_?

Matsuda watched nervously as L's unblinking eyes poured quickly over the data he and the other team members had spent most of the afternoon gathering. He certainly thought L's mannerisms were strange, as did everyone else, but the absence of them seemed almost foreboding. L's long fingers flew over the flat keys instead of being chewed on, and for once there were no cakes or fruits by his side, though he didn't seem to miss them at the moment. Watari seemed to have noticed this as well, as he continued to stay by L's side – maybe he, too, was wondering when a request for tea or sweets would come.

"So, what do you make of it?" Matsuda asked, his normally cheery manner rather muted now. L finally blinked; the rookie cop briefly thought that perhaps his words had shaken L from a trance, reminding him that he hadn't moved, spoken, or, yes, even blinked since he had settled in front of his monitors.

L sat back, finally taking his eyes off the laptop, and sighed almost forlornly. Matsuda raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing. Watari continued to patiently wait.

"This is," L said softly, "unfamiliar territory." He brought a hand to his forehead, holding it briefly there before running it through his messy ebony locks. His hand fell back to its familiar position on his knee, his hair now even more wild-looking than before. "Kira, an apparently psychic killer, is strange enough, but now this..."

Matsuda uncertainly shifted from foot to foot, waiting, like Watari, to see just what the brilliant man would do with this strange new development in the case. He sighed a little to himself as he realized yet again what a small part he seemed to have in all this, especially compared to L, who he thought must be at least a couple of years younger than himself.

Suddenly, L leaned forward again in his usual hunch, his eyes alight with inspiration. Matsuda stiffened, half-expecting the detective to simply request that he get him some coffee. Instead, he surprised him by quickly spinning round in his chair to face the rest of the team.

"Everyone!" L exclaimed, a giddy glint in his black eyes, "I'm afraid I haven't the expertise to deal with this shinigami business, but I know someone who does. In short, I'm calling in reinforcements." From across the room, Soichiro, Mogi, Aizawa and Light stared on, more than shocked to hear such a concession from the world-renowned L. Watari and Matsuda stood still on either side of him, Matsuda's face matching the others', but Watari's still quite calm. An odd smile crept its way across L's face as he turned to face his old patron.

"Watari," he said firmly, "please contact V." L turned back to face the team as Watari busily typed something into one of the computers.

"V?" Aizawa ventured.

"Yes," L nodded, "V is the head of an expert team of American detectives. They specialize in crimes involving paranormal events and supernatural creatures – ghosts, monsters, what have you."

"If that's the case," Aizawa challenged, an incredulous look in his eyes, "why didn't we call on these people when we first determined that Kira kills using some supernatural method?"

"Well," the genius detective pondered, absentmindedly placing a thumb upon his lips, "to be quite honest, they do not normally take on such high-profile cases. But now that this so-called shinigami has appeared, I believe their assistance will be indispensable."

"Ryuuzaki," Watari said quietly, "I have V on the line."

"Thank you," L replied, spinning back to face the monitors just as they simultaneously turned a familiar white. A second later, an Old English letter "V" appeared on the monitors. Removing his thumb from his mouth, L gently pressed a button on his microphone.

"This is L," he firmly stated. "I require your group's assistance on a case."

"L?" the indistinct voice of V inquired. It was probably being scrambled, as the team knew L's was, though it did not sound so digital as his signature computer-like voice. "It's been years since you've contacted us. Aren't you still working on the Kira case, though?"

"Yes, but it has taken a strange turn," L continued, "and it requires your expertise."

"But L," said V hesitantly, "you know we've never taken on a case like this. The worst we've ever dealt with were drug smugglers, we've never worked on a _murder_ case before!"

The task force collectively gasped. What was L thinking, bringing in these so-called detectives that had never even worked a single murder case to chase Kira? Aizawa scowled, questioning for the umpteenth time why he still followed anything the crackpot suggested.

"I have complete faith in your skills," L affirmed, not even seeming to flinch at V's admission of inexperience. "I need all of you on the first flight you can get to Japan. I'll fully fund your tickets if money is any problem for you."

"Of course, we can get there, no problem. It's just," V hesitated again, "you see, we've just wrapped up a case in England, and we happen to have Scrappy along with us. We'll have to take him back home to the States before we can leave for Japan – with that and our basic preparations, it may take us a couple of days." Matsuda turned from the monitors to face his teammates, and found that their confusion matched his own. Everyone involved in any way with L seemed to have a code name, but _Scrappy_?

"That won't do," L replied after a moment, frowning again. "The situation here has quickly become much more serious, and may only worsen with time. I need you on a flight today, V."

"We can't exactly take him with us, L," V protested.

"Certainly not," L reluctantly agreed, chewing on his thumb yet again as his thoughts raced. It took him but a moment to find a solution, as evident by his widened eyes. "You say you're in England?"

"Yes, in London. Why?"

"You can just drop him off at Wammy's," L said with a slight smirk. "I'm sure the kids would enjoy his company, and the trip there shouldn't delay you by more than an hour or two. You can return for him after the case has ended."

"Of course," V said, somehow sounding more hopeful now, despite the scrambler. "Are you sure that would be okay, though?" Much to everyone's surprise, the smallest of chuckles escaped from L's mouth, barely muffled by his thumb.

"Just tell Roger that you're leaving him under my instructions, he won't mind," L assured.

"All right, I guess that covers everything, then," V consented. "We'll drop him off, then we should be on a plane by tonight."

"Good. I'll have Watari meet you at the Tokyo airport – you can contact him when you have the flight information available."

"Right." The monitors returned to their previous news feeds as the connection was terminated. The task force members looked nervously back and forth between each other before quietly sitting back down to work – except, of course, for Matsuda.

"Um," he ventured, "so, what is Wammy's?" At last, some animation came to Watari's wrinkled features, but before he could brush off Matsuda's intrusive question, L's hand left his mouth and shot up into the air to stop him.

"It's fine," he said quietly. L slowly turned his chair toward the naïve young man, although he raised his voice to be heard by all. "I suppose it's safe to tell you a bit about it. Even this won't be of any use for figuring out my identity, since all my records there have been long since erased." Watari nodded, then stepped away with a small frown.

"Wammy's is... a sort of nickname," he began, quickly deciding that the exact name of the place need not be disclosed, "for the orphanage that V and I grew up in." Another simultaneous gasp erupted from the task force, and even Light had a sort of sympathetic look on his face as he listened intently.

"V could have easily ended up just like me, a mind hiding behind a letter, solving cases in safety," L continued, smirking slightly at the irony of the last bit. "Instead, V decided to take things head on, hinging on an interest in mythology, folklore, and in turn, the supernatural. V moved to the US after leaving the orphanage and formed a small, independent detective team. They work completely in the open, and in fact have won quite a bit of fame in America, though they do occasionally travel to other countries on cases. Despite the fact that they typically take on fairly minor cases, I have worked with them once before," L paused, resting his thumb on his lip, but not yet chewing it. "Their tactics are... unique, to say the least, but very bold. They are much more capable than they seem."

The task force members silently nodded in understanding. Naturally, though, Matsuda had only picked up on one thing.

"Does that mean," he said sheepishly, "that you and V are childhood friends, Ryuuzaki?" Aizawa sighed, shaking his head slightly at his friend's simplicity.

L rose slowly from his chair, shoving his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans and keeping the same slouch as he had when he sat. A single corner of his mouth rose in an odd half-smile.

"I suppose you could say that, Matsuda," he admitted softly. The rest of the team was just surprised that the great detective had even bothered answering such a pointless personal question. L ignored their looks, taking a few steps toward Watari. How his benefactor had made his way almost to the door without his noticing, he had no idea. The old man certainly had not lost his touch.

"Watari, if you wouldn't mind," L addressed him, the familiar twinkle of motivation in his eyes, "some coffee, and a large slice of strawberry cake."

A rare, wide smile stretched beneath the senior's neatly cropped mustache.

"Right away, Ryuuzaki."

* * *

**A/N:** Oki, here's the promised explanation, in case I've lost you already.

First of all, the account that Light and Misa give of how they met is _true_. In this story, there is no second notebook or second Kira. My plot just wouldn't work well with Rem, she kept threatening to kill me when I tried. So Misa really_ is_ just an obsessive, infatuated girl who thinks she's in love with Light when he's not really interested. Secondly, Soichiro never has that minor heart attack in this story, simply because I needed to use the cafe scene right before that happens as part of the intro, and that whole thing would just screw with the story's focus – hell, this "intro" chapter is long enough as is – hence Soichiro having to confirm L's identity when they go to headquarters. Thirdly, I'll play with the Scooby-Doo characters as much as I want, because neither their families or histories have ever really been explained (with the exception of a random uncle showing up or something), so who's to say one of them can't be an orphan?

Sigh. I'm taking this alleged crack way too seriously.

As I said, if you still find something weird, wrong, ooc, continuity issues, whatever, lemme know, because I really would like to make this as good as it can be, even if it is just a fun crossover. And since I know plenty of you prolly don't read author's notes, I'll just say...

**Please Review!!**

(I wonder if anyone will notice all the DN puns I've thrown in, by the way... haha.)


	2. Throwbacks to the Sixties

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note, because if I did... a) this wouldn't be posted on a fanfiction site, and b) I'd be rich and famous and generally enjoying life instead of writing this useless drabble and spending all day on the internet. And obviously I don't own Scooby-Doo either, since it was created nearly 20 years before I was born. Nyah.

**A/N:** I forgot something in the explanation last time – that is, the building especially constructed for the investigation shouldn't exist yet in the timeline, I've purposely changed that here. Easier than them moving into it in the middle of the story, since it_ will _become important for the story later on. Just in case anyone caught that but was too nice to bitch me out about it.. It really is ridiculous how hard I'm trying to keep stuff accurate for a story that shouldn't be the least bit serious... Blame the OCD, yes. XD

And big thanks to all those who reviewed, faved, or alerted the first chappie! Reviews are the best of course, but hey, I'm happy just knowing that people are reading it!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Throwbacks to the Sixties**

L was thoughtfully chewing on a rather large bite of his third donut when the double doors opened behind him. He spun in his wheeled chair to see Light and Mogi enter the main investigation room. The other members of the task force had already set to work half an hour ago, but L supposed he'd have to cut Light some slack – the large, empty building could be quite ominous at first. Mogi had gone to the teenager's room to escort him here, since he didn't yet know his way around.

"Good morning, Yagami-kun," L said, his tone almost cheerful compared to yesterday's seriousness. He casually licked at the chocolate icing of his donut. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough to be functional," Light quipped, "but I can't see how anyone could get a good night's sleep knowing you've probably got cameras in every nook and cranny of this place."

"It seems you'd be accustomed to video surveillance by now," L muttered as he took another bite.

"Excuse me?" Light gawked.

"Nevermind," L said dismissively, spinning his chair back around to face his wall of monitors. Light scowled, but dutifully followed Mogi to the large table where the other investigators were working. Two large baskets, one of fruit and one of muffins and bagels, sat in the middle of the table. Light took an orange. He wouldn't say so, but he was thankful for the breakfast. Being suddenly forced to move here yesterday, his things having actually been brought over by Watari and his father that evening, he hadn't had much of an appetite for dinner.

"Ryuuzaki." The team turned toward the monitors – a fancy W was displayed on the large center screen.

"Yes?" L replied. Despite the interruption, he didn't miss a beat; he quickly popped the last bite of his donut into his mouth and grabbed another from the box on his desk.

"V's plane has come in. We will be arriving at headquarters shortly."

"Good, thank you," L said quickly. The center screen blacked out for a moment before again showing the chart that L had been studying. The rest of the team went back to work, except Matsuda, who continued to look in L's direction.

"If the soonest they could get was the red eye flight," he began tentatively, "maybe you should have just told them to wait for a morning flight instead." L turned just far enough in his seat to shoot the young officer an incredulous look.

"What I mean is," Matsuda continued, a bit more assertive now, "that they won't be in any condition to help us if they haven't gotten any sleep."

"Just shut up, Matsuda," Aizawa muttered. Matsuda donned an embarrassed, puppy-eyed look and reluctantly returned to reading over the data on his laptop screen. L blankly observed this exchange before taking another bite of his donut and turning back around.

* * *

After some uneventful research into the deeper patterns of yesterday's Kira-related (and shinigami-related) deaths, the garage's surveillance camera finally showed Watari's car pulling in. L, having moved on from donuts to tea by this point, had been absently keeping watch on this camera feed on one of the smaller monitors. He appreciated the help of V's team, but for every minute after Watari had reported in, he grew more and more anxious. Their methods had always been unorthodox and simplistic – how would they fare against Kira? L switched off the camera feed, dropping a seventh sugar cube into his tea before taking a suspiciously nervous-looking sip.

All too soon, L heard the heavy clack of the doors opening behind him. He quickly gulped down the tea he had been unconsciously swishing around his mouth. Maintaining his ever-blank look, he turned slowly in his chair to face the doors. The other investigators were already looking toward them in anticipation.

Watari stepped just inside the doorway; several others could be seen standing in the shadows behind him. Matsuda tried to remain professional, but the excitement of meeting these mysterious detectives had been making him jittery since they'd heard of their arrival in Japan.

"May I present V and company," the old man said, waving his arm toward the people behind him, "better known as Mystery Inc."

Four people, two men and two women, stepped from the dim hall and through the wide doorway.

The task force members stood politely to greet them, but immediately forgot their manners and unabashedly stared at their new allies. They were just _kids –_ none of them could be older than 20! But then, L himself was quite young. It was something else, something just plain odd about them. They seemed almost plucked out of 1960's America, as if the plane they took to Japan had really been some kind of time machine. The first man was blonde, tall and athletic; he seemed the most professional of them all, wearing blue slacks and a collared blue-and-white shirt with an orange ascot. The second man was an unkempt brunette with a scruffy little goatee, an oversized green T-shirt and baggy pants – all in all, he looked like an out-of-place hippie. The taller of the women was an attractive redhead, and everything she wore – short dress, shoes, headband, and even hose – was purple, with the exception of a green scarf around her neck. The shorter woman, a brunette, was a bit stouter, with short-cropped hair, thick glasses, and freckles; she wore a bulky orange turtleneck, which nearly hid her red pleated skirt, and outdated orange knee socks with red Mary-Janes.

Mystery Inc. stood nervously, grinning and waving slightly at the wide-eyed group of Japanese policemen. Undisturbed by the awkward silence, L stood and calmly shuffled toward them. He stopped before them, a quirky smile stealing onto his face.

"It is good to see you again, V," L said softly, breaking the quiet tension at last. The investigators couldn't exactly tell who he was speaking to, but they surmised that the leader of this group had to be the clean-cut blonde man. They were about to be shocked again.

"Do you really have to call me that here?" the shorter woman said sheepishly, hands clasped behind her back, nervously scratching one leg with the foot of the other. Matsuda just couldn't help himself at this point.

"You're V?" he gawked, dumbfounded. Aizawa nudged his shoulder, hoping he would get the idea and shut up.

"Yes," L answered for her, lightly touching a hand to her shoulder for emphasis. "This is V, alias Velma Dinkley." The woman blushed slightly and bowed. L moved on.

"This is Freddie Jones," L continued, motioning toward the blonde man. He gave a wide grin and bowed as well.

"Daphne Blake," he said, pointing out the other woman, "and Shaggy Rogers." Daphne followed suit by bowing, while Shaggy just waved.

"Also aliases, of course," L finished. He looked around at the four of them for a moment before addressing Shaggy. "And where is Scooby? Did he not come with you?"

"Like, he's around," the mussy-haired youth replied with a smile. As if on cue, the silent Watari moved farther from the doorway.

"Rel!" Out of the darkness of the hallway, a huge brown blur shot into the room and collided with the unsuspecting L.

Before he had fully realized what was happening, he was on the floor beneath a huge Great Dane. He chuckled ever-so-slightly once he'd gained his breath.

"Hello, Scooby."

"Ri, Rel!" the huge dog exclaimed, licking the pinned detective's face. L squeezed his eyes shut.

"Okay, okay, enough," he said calmly. Scooby obliged and hopped off. Velma immediately came forward to help L to his feet.

"Sorry about Scooby," she explained quickly, "he's been excited about seeing you ever since you called yesterday." L dusted himself off and patted the black-spotted dog, who was nearly as tall as the perpetually hunched-over genius.

"Most understandable," he mused. "After all, he is always well-fed when working for me."

"Reah," Scooby happily agreed, tongue lolling out of his mouth, "rell-red!" L looked back at his task force again – their shocked faces hadn't lessened at all.

"Everyone, this is Scooby-Doo," he said, as if that explained everything.

"Um," Matsuda ventured, "can that dog... _talk_?" For once, none of the other investigators tried to shut him up.

"Of course," L replied, staring blankly at the them. "Their team would be quite ineffective if its members could not communicate." Matsuda just blinked in response, and the others were still speechless, so L decided it was safe to move on. He stepped toward the task force to introduce them. Since he was the only one to have spoken up so far, he began at Matsuda's end of the table.

"This is Matsuda," L said. Matsuda bowed nervously. L continued around the table, pointing to each person as if playing a round of duck-duck-goose.

"Aizawa, Mogi, Yagami senior, and Yagami junior," he told them, his tone becoming bored. "You, of course, know Watari. As for myself, within headquarters you will refer to me as Ryuuzaki. In public, please call me Ryuuga."

"Roo.. raki?" Scooby struggled. L gave a subtle smile, and patted Scooby's head affectionately.

"For your sake, Scooby, 'Roo' will suffice." Scooby grinned and enthusiastically licked the detective's cheek.

"There is some breakfast here, if you're hungry," L told the teenagers, motioning towards the still quite full baskets on the table. "Feel free to take a few moments here to rest from your trip before I brief you on the case." L shuffled back toward his desk by the wall of monitors; perhaps he could finish looking over that chart now.

The kids of Mystery Inc. gratefully grabbed some of the fruits and baked goods from the baskets, most of those, admittedly, going to Shaggy and Scooby. Velma grabbed a bagel and went to join L, eager to get a jump on the case, while the rest stood about the table socializing.

"So, Fred-san, where did you get that outfit?" Light asked, absent-mindedly tossing an apple from hand to hand. "It's pretty snappy, is that some new trend in America?" Fred straightened up, standing proudly.

"Well, actually it's from..," he trailed off, suddenly forgetting his swelling pride as he saw Daphne talking with Matsuda.

"Daphne, is it?" Matsuda was asking her, blushing slightly. "That's a pretty name."

"Thank you, Matsuda-san," she replied cheerily, flipping a lock of hair behind her shoulder.

"But I guess one should expect a pretty girl to have a pretty name..."

"Ahem," Fred interrupted, placing a possessive hand on the redhead's shoulder. Light looked on, amused as Matsuda blushed further and tried to convince the much stronger-looking man that he hadn't been hitting on Daphne.

The rest of the socializing consisted of Aizawa, Mogi, and the elder Yagami watching with amazement as Shaggy and his strange talking dog claimed two empty seats and proceeded to devour the rest of the breakfast foods.

"So, is there like, any more food around here? We're starvin' after that flight, man," Shaggy asked, rubbing his stomach for emphasis. The three officers just blinked at each other.

"Sure, the kitchen's on the next floor!" Matsuda exclaimed suddenly, taking the opportunity to get out of his minor plight. "I can take you there if you want!"

"Groovy!" Shaggy exclaimed, enthusiastically hopping up from his chair and following Matsuda out the door. "C'mon, Scoob!" The three dumbfounded detectives continued to watch as the dog jumped up and ran after Shaggy.

Velma chuckled to herself as she watched the two gluttons rush off to the kitchen.

"Those two certainly haven't changed," L commented. Velma quickly turned back to face him, unaware that he'd even noticed their antics. "In fact, all of you are still exactly the same, even years later..." Velma gave a friendly smile as she looked over her fellow detective, his wide and emotionless eyes disguising his true intelligence, thumb resting on his lips as he sat in thought.

"You haven't changed much either," she decided, "except that the bags under your eyes have gotten worse. Have you been sleeping at all since the Kira case started?" He now looked her over as well; he knew this was no insult, there was, as always, a kind gleam in her eyes, visible even beneath the thick glasses.

"I get a decent hour or two every few days," he replied, looking defensively at her, as if his sleep patterns were the most normal in the world, as if _she_ were the strange one for even asking such a thing. She just laughed lightly and rolled her eyes, taking a small bite of her bagel. L turned back to the monitors, closing out all their feeds one by one before closing his laptop. He stood from his chair and carried the computer with him as he shuffled again toward the door with Velma following.

"Freddie, Daphne," he addressed the couple, now sitting at the table chatting with the remaining members of the task force. "Come with me, I'll brief you on all the details of the case in a private room. The rest of you," he said to the others, "please continue with your work."

"What about Shaggy and Scooby?" Daphne asked as she and Fred stood to leave.

"I'm sure Matsuda will fill them in," L said with an odd smirk.

* * *

"So," Matsuda uneasily began, "what sorts of cases do you guys work on? Ryuuzaki was pretty vague about it."

"Man, we always find the scariest things!" Shaggy groaned, quickly swallowing a bite of the enormous sub sandwich he'd constructed a few moments before. "It's always ghosts or monsters or ghosts _of_ monsters..." He paused to take another bite. "And, like, even when they let Scoob and me have a say, we still end up doin' somethin' scary!"

"What do you mean?" the naïve young man asked, entranced as Shaggy finished off the sandwich in just one more huge bite. He imagined the huge amount of food already stuffed into this strangely thin man's stomach would any minute expand like an accordion and then burst.

"Like, okay, so this one time," the scruffy teen started, scanning the table for his next conquest, "the rest of the gang wanted to go to this haunted castle we'd heard about from somebody at the malt shop. But we hadn't had a break from creeps and ghouls in weeks..." Another pause as Shaggy ripped open a bag of chips and started fishing around for dip. "And, like, we just said 'Nooooo way!'"

"Reah, rooooo ray!" Scooby chimed in, his mouth at last unoccupied. He'd just swallowed the last bite of the apple pie he'd found, as well as the full carton of ice cream he'd topped it with and the chocolate syrup and sprinkles he'd added. Matsuda glanced briefly at the huge dog's oddly lean physique, baffled. Did all of L's contacts share his miraculously fast metabolism and seemingly bottomless stomach?

"And for once, they actually agreed with us!" Shaggy continued. "They asked where we wanted to go instead, so, like, we suggested going to this carnival that was in town. And whaddaya know, it turns out there was this lizard creature there, messing with the rides!" At this point, Shaggy gave up on the dip and instead opted for dumping the remainder of his chips, and, like an afterthought, a second bag, into a punch bowl and pouring the dip over them like nachos. "So we ended up getting chased all over by some monster, getting scared out of our wits, and having to solve a mystery anyway!" After looking over the contents of the dining table again, Shaggy got up and headed for the refrigerator.

"And.., um," Matsuda stuttered, finding it hard at first to keep his mind on the subject at hand, "what was this creature, anyway? Some mutant or scientific experiment gone wrong?" His eyes roamed to Scooby again, who was now wolfing down a plate of hamburgers. Matsuda briefly wondered where these out-of-place, and obviously grilled, Western sandwiches had come from, and how Watari had managed to cook all of them unnoticed.

"No way, man," Shaggy laughed. Slapping down a carton of sour cream on the counter, he moved on from the fridge to the cupboard. "It was just a guy in a costume, like always, trying to scare people away from the carnival." With a devious smile, he located two cans of refried beans and tossed them onto the counter, now fishing around the drawers near the sink for a can opener. "I think the guy was, like, from some company that used to make carnival rides, but they got sued or somethin' and went outta business." He suddenly noticed the electric can opener hanging from the cabinet above his head, chuckling at himself for missing it before. With a whirr, he started it up and opened the cans. "So he tried to sabotage the carnival rides made by a certain rival company, thinking he could run them outta business too."

"So, the monsters and stuff that you guys investigate," Matsuda contemplated, "are always fakes?"

"Well, there's been a couple exceptions, man," Shaggy replied, carrying his wares back to the table and dumping everything into his nacho-bowl masterpiece. "We've run into a few real ghosts and stuff before. But then, when that happens, we usually, like, figure out how to get rid of it, but not always where it came from." Shaggy sat and happily stirred his mixture around with salad forks before digging in. Matsuda fought down a fit of nausea. "So even we don't know as much about the paranormal as you'd think, man, but I guess we still know more than most people."

"Do you guys really think you can help us, then?" Matsuda asked.

"Man, L, er, uh, Ryuuzaki, that is, hasn't even, like, told us why we're here yet," Shaggy considered. "Or maybe he's only told Velma..."

"Oh, um, I see," Matsuda stuttered, "He did say something about briefing all of you, I hope you're not missing out..." The young cop resisted the urge to slap his own forehead, for the sake of keeping some dignity, and instead just ran a nervous hand through his somewhat fluffy hair. He'd never hear the end of it if he'd held up whatever plans Ryuuzaki had for Mystery Inc. by indulging the appetites of Shaggy and Scooby. Watari never seemed to mind bringing food to the investigators while they worked, why hadn't he just suggested that instead of taking them to the kitchen?

"I guess I'll just have to tell you myself," Matsuda decided, suddenly straightening up with newly mustered confidence. "You know about Kira, right? I don't suppose there's anyone in the world who doesn't."

"Yeah, man, we've heard all about him," Shaggy replied, shoveling more of his nacho dish into his mouth. Matsuda noted that there were just a few of his humongous bites left now.

"Reah," Scooby agreed with a shudder, "Rira's rarier than ronsters!"

"Well," Matsuda continued, "Things have become more complicated now. Yesterday, a monster appeared that seemed to have Kira's powers. We didn't see it, but people are saying it's a shinigami."

"Rinigami?" Scooby repeated, putting down the hamburger he was about to bite into, fear becoming obvious in his voice.

"A god of death," Matsuda clarified. "It was said to have actually flown around, near the ground, and as it went by several of the people around it collapsed and died of heart attacks, although it supposedly had no physical contact with anyone."

"Rikes!" Scooby cried, jumping instinctively into Shaggy's arms, shivering and teeth chattering.

"Like, they d-d-_died_?" Shaggy asked, voice nearly a whisper and eyes wide. "I thought, like, we'd just be dealing with some Kira fanatic running around in a costume, man! Ya know, tryin' to scare people off Kira's trail or somethin'." Matsuda wasn't exactly relieved as he noticed that the two had completely forgotten about their feast for over a minute now. Apparently fear was the only thing that could stop their stomachs. "We've done some pretty crazy stunts, sure, but never, like, gone up against a _killer_!" Matsuda plastered a confident grin on his face and gave a short chuckle – he couldn't stand the suddenly tense mood.

"It'll be okay," the rookie reassured them, although he wasn't so sure of it himself. "I'm sure Ryuuzaki's got something in mind to protect us in case we actually do encounter this thing."

"Ri rope so," Scooby whimpered, climbing out of his owner's lap. Matsuda scratched the cowardly Great Dane's ear, although admittedly it seemed odd to him to pet Scooby like a normal dog when he acted so very human. Calmed now, both of them went back to their extensive meal.

Matsuda's assumption was soon proven wrong – fear hadn't curbed their appetites, if anything it had enhanced them. Within minutes they had both regained their gluttonous rhythm, perhaps even surpassing their previous speed.

That is, until an apple flew off the table.

* * *

"So, you think that this Misa girl is an accomplice, Ryuuzaki-kun?"

"The possibility is only two percent at best, Velma-_chan_," L replied, one corner of his mouth twitching slightly with amusement. "And you needn't apply honorifics to my alias. Manners are quite wasted on me." The freckled girl's eyes immediately shot down to the table as she tried to hide her embarrassment.

"Sorry, Ryuuzaki," she mumbled.

"Yagami's relationship with Amane," L continued unfazed, idly stabbing a chunk of melon with his fork, "is obviously no more than a front. Whether he, as Kira, is using her as an accomplice or, as Light, is simply stringing her along for sexual purposes, cannot be determined yet. But as of now, he is my only viable Kira suspect, so we must examine all his actions and social relationships in that light." Finally at a pause, he popped the half-mutilated melon into his mouth.

"And this particular relationship," Daphne pondered, "is the most suspicious thing he's got going right now, and even though it may be totally unrelated to the Kira case, we have no choice but to examine it from all angles."

"Precisely," L agreed, quickly downing another square of melon, now forgoing the use of his tiny fork. Fred had been sitting quietly through most of the briefing, absorbing all the information, but suddenly he sat up straight and decidedly gulped down the last of his black coffee. Ignoring his movement, L calmly took another piece of melon between two fingers.

"Misa," Fred exclaimed, a wild twinkle in his blue eyes, "could be a _second_ Kira!"

The only sound in the room was the soft splat of melon falling to the floor. Velma and Daphne stared blankly at their long-time companion; L was still, eyes wide and unfocused, but nevertheless looking straight ahead.

"Second... Kira..," L slowly repeated, as if this were the most horrifying thought to ever cross his mind.

"Yeah!" Fred continued. "Misa somehow can kill just like Kira, except she doesn't seem to need a name. She goes out in the shinigami costume and kills random people just to scare everyone off the real Kira's trail."

"A Kira that only needs a face..," L muttered, the hand which formerly held a piece of melon still hanging suspended in the air.

"We don't even know what Kira's killing method is," Velma argued. "Who's to say that it would even be possible to spread this... this _power_ of his? Much less expand it by getting rid of the need to know people's names?"

"Unless," Daphne said uncertainly, "it's a _real_ shinigami. An actual death god surely wouldn't require things like that in order to kill people."

"Really, Daphne, there's no such thing as shinigami," Velma asserted. "Even if we were to say that there are mythological creatures that really exist in the world, shinigami wouldn't be among those creatures, since they're not a part of mythology at all!"

"What do you mean, Velma?" Fred asked.

"Shinigami, or gods of death, only appeared in Japanese legend during the Meiji era. They were just adapted from the idea of the Grim Reaper, brought to Japan by the Europeans that traveled here for trade. Besides, there are no specific legends about them; they are just a broad, general idea. Even now there are contradictory ideas of their nature – some people believe that they come to Earth to kill people, others think that they are merely psychopomps, spirits who guide the souls of the dead to the afterlife." She paused briefly and adjusted her glasses. "And nowadays, shinigami are actually more prominent in pop culture than with paranormal study – they're used all the time in movies, manga, and anime," Velma explained proudly. L blinked, his trance breaking as he considered her words.

"So it would make sense, if they're well-known in popular culture, for Kira, his accomplice, or even just a fanatical Kira supporter to use the shinigami idea both to scare the public and present a supernatural basis for Kira," L reasoned.

"Well," Fred confidently said, "just like Kira's killing method, we'll find out the reason for this shinigami act when we catch the culprit!" The girls agreed full-heartedly to Fred's enthusiastic declaration, while L gave a nearly imperceptible smile. He certainly wouldn't admit it, but he was suddenly very grateful to have the optimistic teens' help.

Suddenly, L's laptop screen lit up a bright white, a familiar W appearing in the center.

"Ryuuzaki!" an urgent voice exclaimed.

"Watari, what's wrong?" L asked quickly, staring intently at the screen as if he actually expected to see the old man's face there.

"Matsuda, Shaggy, and Scooby have witnessed a paranormal event in the kitchen. They say an apple flew off the table and appeared to be _eaten_ in midair," Watari replied, his voice slightly wavering. L's pupils suddenly dilated, leaving just a small ring of white in his eyes. His knuckles went white as he unconsciously tightened his grip on his bent knees.

"Shini... gami..," he whispered. Velma, sitting beside him at the long table, shivered at his voice. She'd never seen him so... _frightened_.

"But... that's not all," Watari continued, his voice becoming weaker. "There's also the matter of the food..."

"There was more than just the apple?" L questioned, quickly gathering back his composure. He brought a thumb to his mouth and lightly began to chew.

"No, no, nothing to do with that," Watari replied. "It's about Shaggy and Scooby. They've... eaten all of the food. The entire _headquarters_ is out of food!"

L stared blankly at the screen, teeth firmly locked on his thumb, not moving a muscle even as the thin line of blood began to trickle toward his hand.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, in my mind, Shaggy's a lot more perceptive and intelligent than he seems. He can't just be in Mystery Inc. for comic relief only.. right? Anyway, next chapter will have fun/action stuff happening! Rejoice! And apologies to anyone who likes fast-paced stuff, because this story won't be. XD In case you can't tell, I'm a fan of details – the little gestures people give in conversation and whatnot. I like to read things through slowly, and so I write slowly, and so things progress slowly.

First chappie had about 70 hits, 6 reviews, 5 faves, 4 alerts.. It makes me super happy. And the happier I am, the more I write. So keep on reviewing and keep me writing! I'd appreciate any ideas you guys might have for the story, too! Even if I don't use them, they do help me brainstorm.

This chapter's officially dedicated to my boyfriend, who I've methodically drawn into the inescapable world of DN fandom, and who's helped me with a lot of ideas for this fic. Any bf willing to put up with my insane fangirl moments.. and only running away screaming from the room once or twice during all of that (jokingly, too!).. deserves a chapter dedication. XP


	3. Let's Split Up, Gang!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Scooby-Doo or Death Note. If I did, the Scooby gang really would be close to L's level of detective skill, and they'd kick more butt more often. And L would live, because Light would be overconfident enough to slip up, and L would outsmart him long before his ridiculous plans to kill him ever happened. Matt and Mello would have _way_ more screentime, and Near would get slapped. Just _once_. I dearly love his fluffy little self, but he deserves it sometimes. And there _would _be crossovers. Oh yes..

**A/N:** Ack, I'm sorry this has taken so long! I've been lacking in motivation lately. I really wanted to try the one-chapter-per-week thing, but I never can stick to a schedule when it comes to writing.. Interesting reviews give me more motivation, though, _hint hint.._

Here are some language clarifications, for those who care...

As far as honorifics go, it follows canon rules for the DN characters. Ryuuzaki is never followed by an honorific by anyone (hence the little joke in the last chappie, if anyone actually remembers it?). L addresses the task force members with -san and mockingly refers to Light with -kun to signify their fake friendship thingie. Weird as it sounds to do it, everyone refers to the Scooby characters respectfully with -san, except L. He doesn't use any honorifics for them (hence that same joke again), just out of familiarity, not rudeness. Plus, he's accustomed to speaking English with them, so honorifics prolly sound as weird on their names to him as they do to me, I should think..

And yes, Mystery Inc. can indeed speak Japanese (though Scooby's pronunciation is a barrier for him, hence why he's been speaking just in short bursts). Like all Wammy kids seem to, Velma knows just about every language. In fact, her encyclopedia-quoting moments in the show often include her explaining some foreign term, how perfect! And I'm gonna say that the others have all studied several of the more prevalent world languages since Mystery Inc. was formed, since they do travel to other countries on the show and never seem to have any communication issues.. It's important for a detective team to be versatile, ne?

Now onto the madness! XD

* * *

**Chapter 3: Let's Split Up, Gang!**

"C'mon, you guys, it was probably on a wire or something, rigged up just to scare you," Fred argued, a lightly amused look on his face.

"Like, nooooo way! I'm telling you, it floated up off the table and was _eaten_, man!" Shaggy protested. "It, like, stopped in midair, there were two or three big bites, and then the core disappeared!"

"Reah!" Scooby chimed in, still shaking with fear at Shaggy's side, "Risappeared!"

"It's true!" Matsuda agreed. "There was nothing left of it! How could it just disappear, let alone be bitten into, if it was just some basic parlor trick?"

The remaining members of Mystery Inc. and the task force stood in a semicircle in the main investigation room, listening to the continued testimonies of the two frightened men and talking dog seated before them, trying not to let the incredulous glint of their eyes spread to the rest of their faces. These were coworkers, friends, and above all, fellow detectives, not some everyday eyewitnesses off the street; still, they were finding it extremely hard to believe them.

L, as usual, kept his expression blank as the others argued on around him. No one stood close enough to hear it, but beneath that emotionless facade, the genius's heart was pounding mercilessly. Normally, he held enough control over his own feelings that he could trick them into compliance with his unaffected exterior, as if convincing himself, just as he convinced those around him, that he was calm, uncaring, even confident to some extent. But not now. He had told the rest of the team up front that he was childish – that he was immature and hated losing – but that was hardly the half of it.

He was afraid. L, Erald Coil, Deneuve, Ryuuzaki, Ryuuga Hideki, and so many other names that he himself had forgotten some over the years, was actually _afraid_. And afraid of some stupid superstitious nonsense, at that.

He had felt it in the briefing room, discussing shinigami with Fred, Daphne, and Velma, but then it had been just an idea to throw around. A frightening possibility, yes, but that's _all_ it was. Now, though, now it seemed a reality, although of course he would never consent to that without considering all other possible explanations. Still, with all the other oddities this case had revealed, it seemed almost obvious that it must, of course, be something undiscovered and unknown – a shinigami? – that had eaten that apple in the kitchen.

The fear of such a revelation scoured away the knowledge, the experience, the hard realism of his years until he felt he had been reduced to a mere child again. A stupid, scared child, cowering beneath a blanket out of some ridiculous fear of the darker corners of his room. Who knew what might be lurking in that closet, behind the window curtains, or even under the bed itself? Nothing in daylight, but the night and the dark would just laugh and mock his attempts at logic. There was no logic here in the darkness. The shadows formed monsters and ghouls upon his walls – were they not just stacks of books, discarded clothes, harmless bedposts in daylight? Empty space, nothingness, now come to life to taunt him as he grasped desperately for his precious reason, the rationality that he already knew to be lost in the night.

Yes, a child. A man outside, standing, slouching, hands secretly gripping at the inner fabric of his jeans pockets as he looked upon his fellow investigators with absolute calm and neutrality, while inside him crouched that child, fearful of the unknown, wishing as he only did at night that he had a roommate, that he hadn't requested solitude in this already lonely house. He had to snap himself out of this.

"_Could_ it be," L suddenly spoke up, "a real shinigami?" Quiet as his voice was, everyone stopped talking instantly to hear his input; he found himself relieved by the slight boost of confidence their attention gave him.

Funny how the deep, superstitious fear gripping his heart was so easily hidden from all of them, while just minutes ago, in the briefing room, the small fright he got from a vague idea had shown quite obviously.

But then, nothing that managed to escape the labyrinth that was L's mind ever came out in the same state as it had gone in.

"Really, Ryuuzaki, that's ridiculous and you know it," Light scoffed, arms crossed over his chest in an oddly defensive pose, though L was sure it didn't seem that way to anyone else.

"Why not a shinigami, Yagami-kun?" he countered, disentangling the long fingers of his right hand from his pocket and lifting his thumb back into its rightful place at his mouth. "As in the messages I showed you yesterday at the cafe, Kira has informed me that shinigami love to eat apples." A smart glint shined in Light's eyes.

"Is that so?" he challenged with an arrogant tone. "Because you yourself showed me that, with the fourth message included, what Kira actually told you was 'L, do you know love apples?' and 'Shinigami have red hands.' So are you saying now that my initial analysis of the messages was correct after all?"

"It was, yes," L conceded, only slightly disappointed at having to reveal another of his methods. "But that is only because the fourth message was a forgery made solely for the benefit of my interrogation." Light sported what likely was a feigned look of shock at L's admission.

"And when were you planning to tell me? Or do you prefer keeping your own investigators in the dark?"

"Until this apple incident, the message itself did not seem important enough that I should inform you of the lie," L said simply, an extremely subtle but quite pleased look creeping its way into his wide, staring eyes. Up another one percent for the arrogance...

"You know, maybe the reason you haven't been able to gather any real evidence on Kira," Velma pondered aloud, "is because there's none to be found in the first place. Maybe Kira has no psychic powers or supernatural weapons, but is really just a human who has somehow allied himself with a shinigami." She lowered her eyes to the ground as the group's collective attention was drawn to her. "That's if, of course, we are willing to accept the existence of such things in the first place," she muttered.

"Then what about the shinigami in Aoyama? It certainly wasn't invisible," Daphne added.

"A distraction!" Fred enthusiastically chimed in. "A guy in a costume, like I said before, trying to scare everyone off Kira's trail somehow."

"By opening up our minds once again to the idea of shinigami?" L considered, idly nipping at his thumbnail. "That would seem rather unwise, if there is, in fact, a _real_ shinigami carrying out Kira's murders for him. Of course, the whole idea of Kira causing such theatrics in the first place is itself outlandish, considering that, from his previous actions, I have deduced that he must be highly intelligent."

"A deliberate ruse?" Velma ventured. "Maybe this whole shinigami business really is just a big distraction to throw a kink into the investigation. It doesn't make sense in _any_ light, and maybe that's the whole point of it."

"That just killed your entire theory, then," Aizawa suddenly mumbled. Matsuda shot him a look of disdain, thinking he was just letting his short temper get the best of him. L, however, stopped chewing his nail to study the determined face beneath the afro.

"Please elaborate, Aizawa-san," L said. Aizawa looked at him, puzzled and even surprised that the alleged world's best detective wanted his opinion, even though they seemed to be constantly at odds over their respective theories and methods.

"If the shinigami incident in Aoyama was just a ruse, then the theory that Kira is killing by proxy through a real one is completely baseless. With a shinigami doing the killing for him, there'd be no evidence to gather in the first place. No reason to create a ruse, or, for that matter, to have targeted those investigating him in the past," Aizawa explained.

"Indeed," L agreed softly, "if there is no evidence to be found, many of Kira's actions thus far would seem pointless and irrelevant to his goals." Aizawa looked blatantly dumbfounded; he and L actually _agreed_ on something?

"If that's the case, what are we doing standing around talking?" Daphne piped up, her arms sweeping about emphatically. "We should be out looking for clues!"

"When it comes to Kira, all we can do is follow what minor leads we have with reasoning." The group suddenly turned all at once to face Chief Yagami, who all along had been sitting silently at the main table. He looked them all over with a grave expression, shuffling papers in his strong, weathered hands. They all patiently waited for him to continue.

"Before Light was brought in to join our team yesterday," he began, briefly glancing at his son before returning his gaze to the papers, "we combed over the scene at Aoyama. As with all else related to Kira, we found no physical evidence."

Velma watched the older man carefully. L had told them at the briefing a bit about the task force members, but she still was curious about Yagami. It amazed her that he'd stuck with this investigation even when his own son became the main suspect, but looking at him now, she felt she could almost understand. His face was aged, but he held himself like a younger man – the aging that was so apparent in his features must have come about rather recently, probably due to this very case. Despite this, he did not look frail or tired, but strong and determined. Even as a somewhat forlorn look hovered in his eyes, no doubt in concern for his son, he didn't look like he would even consider backing down. He didn't act at all resistant to L or his theories, either, even though the genius was pursuing Light almost exclusively at this point. Had L not told them that Yagami vehemently agreed to having cameras and bugs put in his house, forsaking all dignity and privacy, if only to clear his family's name? That even when suspicion came clearly upon his own son, he did not put up a fight, but instead supported L's admittedly extreme methods more than any of the other investigators?

"Just as before," he concluded, "all we can do is sift through the data, try to find connections, and see what Ryuuzaki can deduce from there."

Velma hadn't so much as spoken one word to him, and all she knew of him came from a third party's description and her own idle observations, but she had begun to harbor a great respect for the man.

"Well, I for one refuse to believe that!" Fred exclaimed, stepping forward with his chest defiantly puffed out. "We were called here for a reason, and we're not going to sit around staring at computers and stacks of paper all day! We're going to go out and _catch_ that monster!"

"Yeah!" Matsuda cried out, pumping his fist in the air excitedly. Aizawa merely scowled, but Matsuda got the hint and hushed.

"And just how do you plan to do that?" the tall detective quipped at Fred, the familiar frustrated anger aglow on his face. "You heard the chief, there's no evidence, no trail to follow. Are you just going to wander around Tokyo until you run into a shinigami?" Fred hesitated, trying his best not to let doubt seep into his features.

"Actually, Aizawa-san," L answered for him, "that's not an entirely bad idea." Aizawa gaped at him, his eyes demanding some explanation for this ridiculous notion. L calmly took a momentary pause, reaching into his back pocket. "This shinigami act may, in fact, become a daily occurrence, just like Kira's usual killings. Criminals are one thing, but this creature attacks random bystanders; if these actions _do_ continue, it will most certainly cause a panic."

"So what, we wait for it to appear again and look for a pattern?" Aizawa countered. "And how many times do you think its attacks will have to be repeated before that pattern emerges? Knowing Kira, that widespread panic will occur long before he leaves us any solid leads on this." L wasn't even looking at him, too concentrated on the broken sugar cubes he was digging out of his pocket.

"We will simply have to predict its moves and hope that our predictions eventually prove to be correct," L said, picking lint off one of the sugar cubes before popping it into his mouth. "What do we know about the circumstances of yesterday's incident?" Aizawa seethed; how could they hope to come up with any sort of behavior pattern by looking at a one-time event like this?

"Kira's judgments were sparse until approximately 11:30 am," Mogi suddenly spoke up, standing straight and serious, "when they suddenly became much more concentrated. About 12:00 pm, the shinigami appeared in Aoyama, flew around the center of the pedestrian shopping mall, and allegedly caused the twelve deaths which occurred there, all of which were determined to be due to heart attacks. During this time, Kira's usual judgments became slightly more sparse. By 12:20 pm, the shinigami was gone, allegedly flying away toward the south. From then until approximately 1:00 pm, Kira's killings picked up again. Afterwards, and for the rest of the day, the judgments were sparse and spread out as per usual." Mogi relaxed slightly. L ate another sugar cube.

"Interesting," L pondered. He turned slightly to look at Light, who had been silently observing from his spot near the double doors of the main room. "Was it not close to 1:00 when Amane arrived at the cafe yesterday, Yagami-kun?"

"I suppose, she did say that the shinigami incident had occurred about an hour before," Light said, "but what does that have to do with all this?"

"Nothing, I suppose," L quickly replied, picking another ball of lint off his precious sugar as he shot the teen his usual innocent, wide-eyed look. "It is also strange, of course, that the incident in the kitchen occurred the very morning after your arrival here." Light probably didn't think his slight scowl was showing, but L noticed it easily enough. Up by two percent...

"But," L said suddenly, turning to Mogi, "that wasn't quite what I was asking. What of the actual place where the shinigami appeared?"

"Ah, well," he started, slightly bewildered but standing confidently straight again regardless, "Aoyama is a popular area for shopping, especially with teenagers and college-age youths. The exact place it appeared was in the center of the pedestrian area, a circular spot with benches and tables; a popular outdoor gathering place, in short."

"I see," L said, licking the last bits of sugar off his fingers. "The shinigami's next target may be a similar place. If we are to go out and attempt to witness another such occurrence today, we should go to another popular youth destination with an established pedestrian area."

"Since we're banking on educated guesses alone," Velma added, "we should probably try more than one place."

"Right," Fred interjected, "let's come up with a few areas to search, then we'll all split up and look for clues!"

"We will limit ourselves to _two_ areas," L corrected him. "We do not have enough people for more than two groups."

"What do you mean?" Matsuda asked incredulously. "Our team's doubled in size since yesterday, Ryuuzaki!"

"For safety reasons, there should be at least three people to each group," L explained, pulling his thumb to his mouth again. "Also, since we are targeting popular youth areas, only those who can pass as teenagers should go. That leaves us with just seven people." He chewed his thumb, watching with some amusement as Matsuda glanced around the group, subtly trying to calculate this himself.

"Since we can only check out two places, we should try Harajuku and Shibuya's shopping district," Light suggested. "Those are the most popular besides Aoyama."

"Agreed," said L, chewing more vigorously at his thumb, now sorely missing his sweets. "Since those areas are fairly close together, we should also be able to regroup easily in case the shinigami actually appears."

"We can also send someone to Aoyama, just in case anything else happens there," Velma added. "After yesterday, no one would question one or two policemen hanging around."

"All right, so we have a plan." Fred impatiently declared, glancing at his watch. "We've only got an hour or so until noon, let's get going, gang!"

Instinctively, L reached for the cell phone in his left back pocket – thankfully, today he'd remembered not to put it in the same pocket as his emergency sugar stash – when the realization suddenly struck him.

"We have one problem," he said somewhat dejectedly, "Watari is still out shopping to restock our food supply. It may be nightfall before he returns." L shot a brief accusing glare at Shaggy and Scooby, who were still sitting silently. He couldn't tell if their silence now was out of guilt or if the conversation had simply been over their heads all along.

"Arriving in such places in a Rolls Royce wouldn't exactly be low profile anyway, you know," Velma said with a chuckle.

"We have no other transport except police cars," L argued. "Even unmarked, several identical black cars would be equally conspicuous."

"No problem!" Fred said with an excited grin. "We'll just take the Mystery Machine!"

Even as the other members of the task force tried to cover their disbelief and confusion out of sheer politeness, Light blatantly gawked at the blond teen.

"The mystery... _what_?"

* * *

Not even L himself knew when or how it had come to be here. No one had noticed its arrival on the security feed. Nevertheless, here it was, parked just a few feet away, impossible to miss as the seven people and one dog stepped out of the freight elevator.

The Mystery Machine, in all its psychedelic glory: all neon green and pastel blue, covered in cheery orange flowers (even on the hubcaps), with the English words "The Mystery Machine" proudly emblazoned on the side in a bubbly 60's style font. The harsh florescent light strips, sparse throughout the majority of the dim underground garage, were more concentrated near the elevators, and, combined with the bright colors of the van, created a glaring green glow all around.

"This," L said, finally breaking the shocked silence, "is certainly not inconspicuous."

"We're going into highly fashionable areas of Tokyo!" Daphne beamed, motioning toward Mystery Inc's prized vehicle. "We'll stand out less in this than we would in dark, unmarked cars!"

"You... have to be kidding," Matsuda muttered.

"Actually, she has a point," Light commented, walking up for a closer inspection of the old Volkswagen. "Hiding in plain sight, as it were, no one would ever suspect that we were a bunch of investigators on the Kira case."

"Besides," Fred said, walking up proudly to the back of the van, "I doubt any of the police cars are as well equipped!" L, Light, and Matsuda curiously approached as Fred swung open the back doors.

It was now apparent why the van only had windows on the doors. Behind the single bench seat, from floor to roof, the walls were covered with a solid mass of computer equipment – monitors, microphones, and more buttons and lights than they could count. Headsets hung near the doors in the only strip of space where the walls themselves were visible, and even here were several large switches and controls. A small satellite dish hung upside down from a makeshift door on the roof, which no doubt could be flipped up to sit atop the van. Every available bit of space was occupied by some gizmo or other.

"Wow!" Matsuda gasped. "What _is_ all this stuff?"

"Radar, radio transmitters, bugging devices, phone interceptors, basic video surveillance..," L listed, climbing into the van to look around. "You've updated a lot since I last saw it, Freddie."

"You know me," the blond said with a grin, "I'm always looking for new toys."

"Indeed," the detective blandly replied, rummaging around near the bench seat. Suddenly, the passenger door opened up and Velma popped her head inside.

"If you're looking for that case Watari had," she whispered, watching with an amused grin as the genius delicately picked up an empty box of Scooby Snacks, "he said he would stash it under the driver's seat."

"Ah, thank you," said L, carefully placing the box back where he'd found it. He squatted on the floor, his long fingers searching beneath the seat before finally pulling out a thin brown briefcase.

"Where'd that come from?" Fred wondered as L shuffled toward the back of the van again.

"Knowing the way you all work, I asked Watari to have these prepared for your arrival," L said, perching precariously by the open door in his usual crouch. He opened the case and sat it on the floor of the van so everyone else could see.

"Are these, like, masks?" Shaggy ventured, stepping forward and plucking a piece of wiggling rubber from the briefcase.

"Yes," L answered him, although addressing the whole group rather than Shaggy alone. "I knew you'd want to pursue the shinigami outright, and since, from the incident yesterday, it seems to need only a brief glance of someone's face in order to kill, I had to take some precaution." He took out a mask as well, holding it carefully in front of him with the index fingers and thumbs of both hands, scrutinizing it with his wide black eyes. Forsaking his usual blank expression, for a moment L donned a look of actual surprise and disbelief.

"Watari's got some sense of humor, man," Shaggy mumbled, his own face nearly mirroring L's as he waited to hear his opinion.

"What's the matter with them?" Daphne wondered. Like the others, she couldn't see the masks from the way the two men were holding them.

"Nothing, it is just that," L began slowly, "I expected something more nondescript." He paused for a moment, turning the mask around so the rest of the group could see. "Certainly not these... caricatures."

Everyone collectively gasped in shock, and perhaps disgust, at L's mask. Some twisted, creepy version of what a child's drawing of L might look like – bugged-out eyes, a plump, rounded face, and hair made of bulky, play-dough-like clumps – stared eerily back at them.

"Like, the rest are no better," Shaggy said, turning around the mask he held, which happened to be of Light. Its style was a close copy of L's, other than the odd smirk of the mouth, and the coloration, which was accurate to Light's appearance with just one exception.

The eyes were an undeniably bloody shade of red.

* * *

"Alright, everyone ready?" Fred asked, adjusting the rear-view mirror yet again.

"Yes," L said impatiently. "Let's go, we are losing time."

The van slowly lurched backwards out of the parking spot, paused as Fred carefully shifted gears, then suddenly zoomed forward.

In the front bench seat, the _only_ seat, were Fred, Daphne, and Velma. Kindly allowing the women these safer positions, the rest had opted to sit in the back of the van, on the floor, where there were no defined seating areas or restraints of any kind. Shaggy and Scooby were accustomed to this, so the sudden movement didn't phase them as they lounged comfortably against the back doors. Matsuda was trying desperately to hold onto the smooth edges of the computer console beside him, looking foolish and flailing about when Fred hit the gas, but managing to stay upright nevertheless. Light was tensed, bracing himself only with his arms, which he held out to his sides with his palms on the floor. He sat cross-legged in an attempt to keep up his dignity, so his arms were his only options for balance.

L, however, was fully confident that he could maintain his usual sitting position. He could not afford to lose his deductive powers, after all; even during the short trip through town, he had a multitude of theories and plans to consider. His legs, though well-hidden by his baggy jeans, were strong and muscular from his years spent practicing South American martial arts. He had no trouble keeping his position in the seat of Watari's car, and never wore a seat belt there, so why not in the floor of a van?

The Mystery Machine emerged from the garage and took a sharp right turn onto the street. L immediately toppled over and slid across the floor into the console nearest to Light.

"You should know better than to sit like that in a moving vehicle!" Light chastised, smirking and not bothering to hold back his chuckles.

"Ron't raugh!" Scooby barked, an oddly serious expression playing on his rather cartoonish features. Light hushed up, perhaps more because the notion of a talking dog still freaked him out a little than because of the command itself.

"Are you all right, Ryuuzaki?" Matsuda asked, letting go of his tentative grip on the opposite console. He crawled over to L, reaching out a hand to help him up, but the detective batted him away. As the van came to a brief stop, L quickly stood and scurried back across the floor. He settled back into his crouched position, wedging himself between a console and the back of the bench.

This worked out well for about five minutes, at which point Fred took another hard right and sent the world's most brilliant mind crashing face-first into the floor. Again.

Velma leaned over the back of the seat as L muttered English curses into the floorboard.

"Ryuuzaki," she said, a sympathetic smile on her face, "the next time we come to a stop, why don't you just come up here with us? I'm sure we can squeeze you in."

L only groaned angrily in response, rolling onto his back and brushing dirt off his pale cheek. Velma chuckled good-naturedly and turned back toward the front, rolling her eyes at L's eccentric sense of pride.

However, after sitting up and being knocked over for the third time, L didn't hesitate to climb over the bench and settle in beside the brunette. She and Daphne wordlessly scooted over to accommodate him; the subtle hints of gratitude in his deep black eyes were their only thanks.

L had certainly never liked prolonged physical contact, but he had little choice here. The bench in the old van was certainly large enough for the four of them, even with L's legs bent up on the seat, but there was no escaping the contact. He sat tensely, partially leaning against the door, but he couldn't avoid his arm touching Velma's shoulder, or his leg brushing against her during even the slightest turns. He wriggled his toes nervously, but this was really the only evidence of his discomfort. His tensed muscles were, after all, necessary to his balance; there was no need for anyone to draw any other conclusions about that.

A couple of quiet minutes of uninterrupted thought managed to calm him, and slowly his muscles began to relax. Perhaps it wasn't so bad like this. Velma was not a _real_ friend, he supposed, but was admittedly the closest thing to a real friend that L had ever had. This was certainly more tolerable than sitting closely to a stranger, or to someone who annoyed him, at any rate. They would arrive at their destination in no more than 12 or 13 minutes, judging by the distance and the amount of traffic. Yes, he decided, he could tolerate this contact for that long.

He looked down the bench to Fred and Daphne. Neither of them showed any signs of discomfort with the seating arrangement, and it did not seem to affect the quality of Fred's driving, but then, L had not really_ expected_ the two of them to complain about having to sit closer together. He looked down at Velma, who sat a good five inches lower than himself. She held her hands in her lap, arms perfectly still as her stubby fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. A nervous habit, perhaps? L was wondering if he should lean more towards the door to give her room when she noticed his gaze. Surprising him, she looked up at him not with discomfort or annoyance, as did most people upon realizing that L's wide eyes were upon them, but with kindness. Then she smiled, a subtle, friendly smile that seemed somehow reassuring. L's eyes widened by just a hair, and one corner of his mouth lifted in an unsure attempt to return the sentiment. It really wasn't so bad...

That is, until L's still-wiggling toes accidentally brushed against Velma's bare thigh.

L tensed up all over again, quickly turning to face the window, retracting his toes back and curling them until they were almost completely underneath his feet, digging the nails into the vinyl seat. That was it, he was definitely uncomfortable here.

"Freddie," he said suddenly, hating now the silence he'd rejoiced in just moments ago, "turn on the radio. It is getting closer to noon, and we should monitor the news."

"Oh, okay," Fred replied, slightly startled at the quiet being broken. He obediently flipped a dial, and music began to blare out of the speakers dotted along the van's roof.

_Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you?_

_We got some work to do now!_

"What the..," Light mumbled, looking toward Shaggy and Scooby in a sort of disgusted amazement.

_Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you?_

_We need some help from you now!_

"The dog has a _theme song_?!" the boy demanded, openly pointing at the Great Dane as Fred scrambled to eject the cassette.

"Yagami-kun!" L shouted, quickly twisting his body backwards to face Light, his voice alone shocking him into compliance. "Scooby is a valued member of Mystery Inc. Please show some respect!"

"Um," the teen stammered, turning toward the dog while keeping a wary eye on the increasingly unpredictable genius, "I'm... sorry about that, Scooby-san."

"Rat's okay!" Scooby replied, shooting L a toothy grin as Fred finally found a news station on the radio. L turned back around as everyone fell silent again. The announcer was reviewing the day's top stories, but there was nothing relevant to the case.

"By the way, Fred-san," Light said as the announcer moved on to weather, "I meant to ask you, how did you get this... vehicle of yours to Japan, anyway?"

"This is not the first time they have brought the Mystery Machine along on an overseas case, Yagami-kun," L answered for him, not bothering to face him this time. As usual, the detective's cryptic response didn't quite answer his question. Not wanting to risk provoking L's temper again, though, Light decided to drop the subject.

* * *

"Everyone has their masks?" L asked, gingerly pulling one rubber edge from beneath his white shirt. The rest nodded, lightly patting the shirts or pockets that hid their own masks as they stood on the sidewalk next to the Mystery Machine.

"Good," said L, tucking his mask back into its hiding place. "Now, Freddie, Daphne, and Velma will accompany me to Shibuya. Shaggy, Scooby, Matsuda, and Light will go to Harajuku."

"Ryuuzaki," Velma whispered harshly, tugging at his long sleeve, "you're letting Light go with _them_?"

"Please trust my judgment, Velma," L said quickly, meeting her brown eyes for just a moment. She nodded curtly and let go. L turned back to face the Harajuku group.

"Matsuda-san, if anything should happen," he instructed, "please use the distress signal in your belt buckle."

"Right!" Matsuda exclaimed, saluting L like an obedient soldier. L just stared blankly at the naïve cop, and slowly blinked before turning to Light.

"Yagami-kun, I assume you know your way around?"

"Yes, I know the area quite well, actually," Light confidently answered.

"Good, I am counting on you to lead the group and find the most suitable areas to patrol," L told him, his face belying no ulterior motives, but Velma knew he must have a much better reason for letting his prime suspect out of his sight. No matter how small the probability that he was Kira, L personally seemed to have no doubts about Light, and besides, it wasn't like him to allow a suspect such freedom. Even from the short amount of time they'd spent working together in the past, she knew that he wasn't one to give up on a theory or a lead, no matter how trivial it might seem to everyone else.

"Are we absolutely clear on the plan, then?" L demanded, looking briefly at each and every member of the group as they nodded in agreement. Shaggy and Scooby looked a bit scared, as usual, and Matsuda was looking nervous, trying to cover by puffing his chest out and standing straight, but otherwise there seemed to be no doubt present.

L looked lastly at Fred, and subtly nodded his head at the blond as he handed him the proverbial floor. Fred grinned enthusiastically and stepped forward into the middle of the group.

"Let's split up, gang!"

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, I guess I lied last time.. action is in the _next_ chapter! This one ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would, so I cut it off here. Plus I really wanted to get this up _tonight_, since I've already kept you guys waiting an extra week for it. Gomen!

And God, was that first scene _long_! Six whole pages for that one conversation! Seriously, was that scene just.. excruciatingly long for you guys? I'll understand if you hate me for it! DX

And.. the darkly emo L's-childhood-flashback-ish thing? I don't even know where that came from, it just happened (don't worry, it does fit in with my later plans.. even if it seems almost out of place. But I like it, especially considering how much the latter half of that scene sucks, so it stays! Nya!).

Oh! In case you didn't catch it, L's mask is like the one Near made! And the others are modeled after it – I just couldn't resist! Embrace the creepiness! XD

Oh, and I think somebody brought up the perspective issue a while ago..? Don't remember who, but.. It mostly will just revolve around L, yes, even though I will delve into other characters' heads from time to time as well. I guess I'm trying to go for the opposite of the canon, which focused mostly on Light and only briefly shifted onto others when the need arose – this is gonna be the same way, just with L instead of Light. In fact, unless it's very important, the perspective prolly won't shift to Light at all. He is _supposed_ to be a villain, ya know. Have you ever seen a Scooby-Doo episode that followed the monster's POV? Didn't think so.

Anyway! Check my profile for updates/delays/whatever. (I _will_ keep you guys informed, even if I'm too lazy to finish a chapter on time. XP) And take my poll while you're there, it pertains to a new short story (4-5 chaps max) I'm considering. Pretty please?

Oh, and don't forget to **review**!


	4. Zoinks!

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own Scooby-Doo or Death Note. I'd love to, but I don't, so please don't sue, oki? I also don't own the bits of song lyrics I use... Although I wish I did own one particular song used in this chapter. You'll understand when you get to that part. XD

**A/N:** Thanks to all my kind readers, I haves my inspiration back! I've spent two whole days this week working on the timeline for the rest of the story. I have three pages of handwritten notes and charts devoted to this. It definitely can't be called crack now, no matter what I tell myself. I'm such a nerd, I know, but Death Note itself is so intricate, I can't help but try and live up to it!

Anyway, for those who are interested, the story as a whole will consist of about four mini-arcs. I'm still working out the kinks at the end of the third right now, but otherwise it's all planned out.. And a lot longer than you might think such a crossover would be, or than I originally thought it would be.. Just think of this as.. a Scooby-Doo movie, instead of just an episode. XP

That being said, this chapter is the last (and definitely the longest) of the first arc! That means major action and turning points await you below! Enjoy (and review)!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Zoinks!**

"Like, I can't believe Ryuuzaki went to Shibuya instead of coming here with us!" Shaggy exclaimed before taking another massive bite of his crepe.

"Reah," Scooby agreed, licking a bit of whipped cream from his mouth, "Roo's rissing out!"

"Ryuuzaki never goes out anywhere," Light reasoned, striding a few paces behind the others. A bored look crossed his face as they passed yet another group of girls in Gothic Lolita attire. "He probably knows nothing about the types of food they have here."

"Guess not," Shaggy decided, looking forlornly at the now empty paper wrapper. "If he knew there were all these places selling crepes filled with, like, strawberries and cheesecake and stuff, man, he'd practically _live_ here!"

"Maybe when we're done here, I should pick up a few for him," Matsuda mumbled, idly kicking a pebble off the sidewalk, "since bringing him coffee and snacks seems to be all I'm good for."

"Like, what's that about, man?" Shaggy asked, tossing the paper wrapper into a nearby waste bin.

"I don't know," the young detective sighed, still speaking softly. "I'm not an idiot, you know, but the rest of the task force certainly makes me feel like one sometimes. They're all older and more experienced than me. Then there's Ryuuzaki, and even Light – they're geniuses!" He looked briefly over his shoulder to make sure the teen hadn't heard his comment. Thankfully, he was still staring off into space, probably lost in calculations or something. "Just working around so many people that are smarter than me, it makes me nervous, and I get clumsy. Then that just makes all of them think even less of me..."

"Don't worry, man!" the scruffy brunette grinned, patting Matsuda lightly on the back. "Scoob an' me are the biggest screw-ups around, but that doesn't make us any less valuable to Mystery Inc. You just gotta, like, find what you're good at." Matsuda brushed a tuft of black hair from his eyes and smiled up at the lanky teen. Much like himself, he decided, Shaggy was a lot more capable than he was given credit for.

_Pi pi pi!_

Shaggy, Scooby, and Matsuda stopped in their tracks, turning to Light, who had fallen several feet behind them by now, but whose loudly beeping cell phone could be heard quite clearly nonetheless.

_Pi pi pi!_

Light fished the device from his trouser pocket and flipped it open, silencing the ringer without answering. He continued walking until he was close enough to talk to the others.

"It's my girlfriend, Misa," he explained quickly, bringing the phone to his ear. The others nodded in understanding, and all four stepped into a small alleyway to allow the other pedestrians on the busy sidewalk to pass them. Before Light could say a word, they heard the squealing female voice on the other end, though not clearly enough to make out the words.

"Yes, I'm sorry," Light was saying. "I know... No... We're on a _field mission_, Misa. If I was out early I would be spending my time with you, don't you think?" The others watched curiously, though trying not to look like they were eavesdropping, as Light donned an amused, but somehow sneaky, smirk.

"Of course I would, Misa... Yes, we'll probably be here for an hour or so, then it's back to the office... Yes... Yes. I'll talk to you later... Bye." He snapped the phone shut, looking bored again.

"Sorry about that, guys. I forgot to call her last night, what with moving to headquarters and everything else," he explained, suddenly acting very friendly and smiling. Shaggy silently wondered if this friendly act had anything to do with the call, or if he was just trying to make up for his behavior in the Mystery Machine earlier. Matsuda, however, was just happy that the young man was making a seeming effort to bond with his teammates.

"You didn't say anything about having a girlfriend before, Yagami-kun!" he gushed, grinning widely. "So is she cute?"

"Matsuda-san," Light said, his tone slightly less friendly as he emphasized the _-san_. "We do have a job here, we need to keep our eyes open and keep moving." He led the way back onto the sidewalk, the others following quietly.

After a few moments of silence, Matsuda still hadn't caught the hint.

"You know, you never talk about yourself, Yagami-kun," he finally continued, looking somewhat thoughtful despite the persistent grin. "I mean, I know you and Ryuuzaki hang out together at the university, but you don't act much like friends. It's gotta be tough not having friends you can confide in, especially when you're involved in such a stressful case!"

"You seem to be the one fishing for friends, Matsuda-san," Light quipped, walking on ahead of the rest this time. Matsuda's social giddiness crushed, he frowned and fell back into silence alongside Shaggy and Scooby.

The group continued down the sidewalk, with even the two Tokyo natives taking great notice of the many hordes of cosplayers and the scattered street performers. Shaggy and Scooby felt like they were walking through an outdoor convention – all around were strange costumes, bright wigs, leather, chains, Halloween makeup, and more elaborate uses of hair gel than either of them had ever seen in one place before, all adorning teenage Japanese girls.

Or, at least, they thought they were girls. Several of them, when seen up close, turned out to be male. They had _very _goodcostumes. The two friends had worn more crazy costumes than they cared to count, and yes, they had cross-dressed on several occasions, all for the sake of distracting some monster, throwing someone off their trail, or carrying out one of Fred's elaborate traps. But never, _never_, had Shaggy and Scooby looked so convincing...

As they neared the end of the street, they could hear someone talking over a loudspeaker. Turning the corner to continue their circular trek around Harajuku, they saw a large van, much bigger than the Mystery Machine, parked near the center of a pedestrian bridge, a radio station logo painted on the side and a large satellite dish sitting atop it.

"We're broadcasting live from Harajuku, and our monster contest is just about to start, so if you want to compete, better get here quick!" the deejay was saying over the eerie instrumental beginnings of a Malice Mizer song.

"Monster contest..?" Shaggy mumbled, shaking slightly with premature fear.

"Sheesh," Matsuda commented, "after what happened in Aoyama, I think I'd cancel any outdoor events like this."

"These people know nothing about Kira," Light declared. "They aren't necessarily expecting a repeat of yesterday's attack, as we are; and even so, most wouldn't think to predict what sort of area it might be repeated _in_."

"I guess you're right," Matsuda muttered, watching the animated movements of the enthusiastic deejay.

"Come on down in your best monster costume, we'll be here all afternoon, playing your favorite spooky hits!" the deejay exclaimed just before the first verse of the song started, swinging his arms about as if the radio listeners could see.

"Like, I got a really bad feeling about this," Shaggy whined, positively shaking with fear now.

"Reah, re roo," said Scooby, whimpering at his master's side.

"They are sort of asking for it, aren't they?" Matsuda said dejectedly, fingering the rubber mask hidden under his shirt. The group walked with a bit more purpose now as they made their way past several shops toward the bridge.

_Pi pi!_

"Again?" Light complained, pulling the phone from his pocket. He looked over his shoulder at his teammates with a sheepish grin. "She's so clingy, she really drives me crazy sometimes!" He flipped open the phone; it was a text message this time, apparently. He quickly texted something back before putting the phone away.

As they were almost to the bridge, before the doors of the very last shop on the block, Light stopped and turned to face the others again.

"I hate to ask, but I need to use the restroom. Would you care to wait out here for me?"

Matsuda and Shaggy looked at each other, the doubts of each mirrored in the other. Matsuda leaned toward the taller man, covering his mouth in attempt to keep Light from hearing, though his question was surely obvious to the boy anyway.

"Should we let him go alone?" Matsuda whispered. "He's a suspect, after all."

"Like, I don't wanna stay out here by myself!" Shaggy whimpered.

"Re reither!" Scooby hurriedly agreed.

"Well there's no way I'm staying out here alone!" Matsuda hissed. He huffed and crossed his arms in frustration. Light stood patiently by.

"Fine!" Matsuda said suddenly, standing decisively tall. "Go ahead, Yagami-kun. We'll wait out here for you."

"Thanks," Light replied, hurrying into the store. Shaggy and Scooby looked at Matsuda, not bothering to even ask the obvious.

"What trouble can he really get into in a little shop? If he does anything, they should have security cameras in there," Matsuda reasoned, doubt creeping back into his voice again. "Besides, we can't leave our post, right?"

"Right," Shaggy said, voice trembling just a little as he leaned against the brick wall of the shop, trying to look calm. Scooby joined him, while Matsuda just paced in front of them.

"All right, folks," the deejay exclaimed as the song ended, "our monster costume contest is now under way!" The detectives watched anxiously as a horde of colorful, furry, and scaly monsters lined up around the radio van. This could be a real problem – they didn't even have a solid description of what the shinigami in Aoyama had looked like, and now all these people in monster costumes were gathering about. This did not bode well at all. Shaggy and Scooby were already shaking again; they knew how these situations worked. Murphy's Law was always in full effect wherever they went; they were always the ones who ended up finding the monsters first. Even supported by the wall, their muscles were tensed and ready to run at any moment.

"Ah, it seems we have a last-minute entry!" the deejay was saying as he got to the end of the line of monsters. All three were seized by apprehension, and reluctantly looked over the other monsters' heads to see the newcomer. They didn't have to look for very long – the black silhouette towered over the others by at least a foot and a half, but more than that, it had _wings_...

Huge wings, almost bat-like in shape, covered in feathers, or perhaps fur – from this distance they couldn't tell exactly – stuck out of the black creature's back. And they were _moving_.

It had to be...

"Oh, man," Shaggy whimpered, "I knew this was gonna happen..."

Shaggy, however, could do nothing about it. As he knew it would, the shinigami rose into the air, the people around at first ooh-ing and awe-ing, then screaming and running as realization finally hit. Waiting for just a fraction of a second, long enough for Scooby and Matsuda to realize what was happening, he ran.

He was scared out of his wits, of course, but no one could say that Shaggy had been caught unawares.

Both Scooby and Matsuda yelped before taking off down the sidewalk behind Shaggy. The three of them blended in with the panicked crowd for half a block, the monster flying behind them, chasing the crowd, with several people falling behind the rest and collapsing along the way. Finally seeing an opening, the detectives quickly dove into an alley. Pressed up against the back side of a dumpster, they worked to catch their breath, hoping, despite the goal of their mission today, that they'd lost the shinigami. Matsuda started to wipe his brow on the sleeve of his blue suit jacket, then seemed to think better of it.

"Either of you guys have a handkerchief, perchance?" he huffed, still breathing heavily from the run. A rag was dangled in front of his face. He took it without a word, gratefully wiping the sweat from his face.

"That's better, thanks," he said at last, his breathing slowing down to normal pace again. Shaggy and Scooby stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Like, who are you th-th-thanking?" Shaggy stammered.

For a moment, the two men stared at each other, Scooby whimpering beside them, a low, hissing breath sounding from above. Slowly, very slowly, they both looked up. Huge yellow eyes stared laughingly down at them as a clownish grin spread across the creature's face – wide blue lips baring nothing but pointed teeth, looking completely amused. Its skin was tinted a sickly blue beneath a head of wild black hair, its neck stitched like patchwork to the its black body; more of the fuzzy feathers adorned its bony shoulders. The bumbling detectives began to tremble with fear all over again.

"Zoinks!"

* * *

"It is really quite simple," L mumbled over a spoonful of ice cream. "If the shinigami should appear in Harajuku, it either is or is not Light in costume."

"And you couldn't have conducted this little experiment in _our_ group – or better yet, with everyone present as witnesses?" Velma demanded, glaring daggers at her eccentric fellow detective as she sipped the last of her soda.

"He would never take such a risk around me," L reasoned, picking one of the many cherries from his sundae and nonchalantly popping it into his mouth.

"But he'd risk it with the others?" Daphne chimed in from behind. She and Fred were still finishing their lunches as they walked, and so had fallen slightly behind their companions. L calmly plucked the cherry stem from between his lips before answering.

"Light is intelligent enough to see that there is opportunity within that group. If he is Kira, or at least the person acting as Kira in the shinigami costume, he will find a way to separate himself from them without arousing their suspicion." L swirled his spoon around the foam bowl, scooping up a bite of nothing but chocolate syrup. His innocent facade changed to bliss for a moment as he downed the sweet goo.

"So, basically, you're counting on Shaggy and Scooby's incompetence," Velma huffed. "Weren't you the one scolding Light for insulting Scooby just a short while ago?"

"That's precisely the point, Velma," L said seriously, setting the spoon down in the bowl. "Light _perceives_ them to be incompetent, and that goes for Matsuda as well. I'm counting on him to underestimate them and therefore put himself at risk to be caught. If nothing else, the shinigami appearing while the prime suspect is out of sight will provide circumstantial evidence."

"Fine, I understand," Velma conceded, glancing about for a place to dispose of her empty cup.

L returned to his treat, taking advantage of the temporary silence to revel in the sweet confection. It was the first solid supply of sugar he'd eaten since that morning, and, though no cure-all by any means, it was certainly taking the edge off the anxiety that had been plaguing him since they'd left headquarters. He let another cold spoonful melt on his tongue; it was soothing in a basic, carnal way, but there was no physical pleasure that could ever stop his restless mind completely.

L was thankful, however, to find that the sweet had managed to silence one or two of the many trains of thought that constantly chugged away in his head. The risk of brain-freeze was well worth it if it saved him the headache of all those hurried thoughts. He could handle the running percentages, the streaming data, the constant tweaks to his plans and theories, and everything else to do with the Kira case, but today there were foreign thoughts plaguing him.

Velma watched L out of the corner of her eye, still fidgeting with the cup in her hand, unable to find a waste bin anywhere amongst the wall of multi-story department stores, billboards, and televisions that lined the street. The brilliant insomniac ate his ice cream without a care in the world, it seemed, and though she knew better, it still bothered her to no end. Perhaps L had never been as innocent as the oblivious look on his face tried to convey, but he'd never before seemed so cold and unfeeling. Had he really changed so much in three years, while she still felt exactly the same?

Hadn't L been her friend, once? Or had it all been wishful thinking? Sure, she could never read him completely, no matter how well she thought she knew him back then, but she _did_ know that he hadn't been nearly this cynical. He had hidden them well, as now, but he did have feelings when they were young, she _knew_ he did. He'd held onto some bits of normalcy, too – as anti-social and quiet as he was, constantly coddled by Roger and the teachers, brought up being daily told what a genius he was – despite everything, on some level, he'd been a normal boy.

He'd once confided in her that he was afraid of the dark. She'd just smiled at him, even though back then she never smiled at anything out of embarrassment over her braces. He had been confused, to be sure, but he'd smiled back, just a little. She'd discovered then that the mussy-haired boy at the head of the class was human after all; she remembered how special she'd felt, knowing she was the only one that he entrusted with the knowledge of his humanity.

She didn't know much about what L had done since they'd last worked together. She had heard at one point that he had gotten involved in a serial murder case in Los Angeles, but never the details of it. Even as a trusted contact of L and graduate of Wammy's House, she was far from the loop. In fact, she pondered, there probably was no loop to begin with; anything to do with L was on a strict need-to-know basis. Therefore, she couldn't be sure of everything to do with Kira either. Mystery Inc. only knew what L had told them outright; who knew what details he might have omitted? He never was one for telling unnecessary truths, after all.

Maybe it was just the subject matter alone that had affected his attitude – in the time since their last meeting, his biggest cases both had to do with murder, while she and her friends hadn't budged from their usual pattern of minor cases. Ironically, the paranormal rarely had anything to do with death; murder was direct, passionate, and angry. Even ritualistic killers didn't stray too far from this rule, and until now, she had been sure that a murderer would never don a monster costume, stooping to the basic scare tactics reserved for smugglers, thieves, and people generally up to no good.

Had murder stripped away what little innocence the young man had left? Had it jaded him so much to the idea of death that he no longer thought twice about risking innocent lives, and even his own, just to stubbornly prove his point?

Not really caring now whether he noticed, since he himself had a habit of unabashedly staring at people, Velma studied his pallid face for the second time that day. She'd been wrong that morning; he'd changed much more than simple sleep deprivation could account for. A moment ago she'd been angry with him for knowingly putting her friends in danger, but it had faded away now, and she was feeling every bit as empty as L looked. She suddenly found it hard to believe that face, worn and tired and, yes, _empty_ from all it had seen, belonged to someone her own age.

Finally seeing a waste bin, Velma threw away the styrofoam cup, only then realizing that she'd torn off a chunk of the side while lost in though.

The question begged to be asked, but he was, despite everything, L. The ultimate authority. How could she question his methods, as inexperienced as she was by comparison?

It didn't matter; those forgotten bonds of friendship still held him in her eyes as an equal, no matter the superiority of his title; so long as they were face to face, so long as he was no longer hiding behind a letter on a screen, he wasn't L, the world's greatest detective. He was just L, the quiet boy with the baggy clothes and unkempt mop of hair and insatiable sweet tooth.

"Ryuuzaki," she said quietly, intently studying the forward progress of her own feet. She wondered briefly whether Daphne and Fred were still close enough to hear, but they seemed to be engaged in their own conversation. "Do you really think this is right? I mean, risking lives this way to catch a killer?" She gathered the courage to look up again, to meet the curious eyes now trained on her. He blinked, as if not understanding the question, though she knew that he did.

She sighed, and watched her feet again.

"Don't you think it's... hypocritical, at all?" she stammered, nervousness and frustration and anger and sadness all fighting to overtake her voice.

"Velma," he breathed, oddly quiet, even for him. "I am justice, not morality." She looked up at him again, hints of shock in her eyes, but something else as well, shining through even behind her thick glasses. L looked straight ahead, away from those eyes; something in that look deeply bothered him, but that, he reasoned, was probably just because he was unaccustomed to seeing faces he could not read.

"Justice is a means to an end. Morality only complicates those means, and makes the end that much harder to reach." He paused and stared intently down at his bowl, which held only a few cherries now. "I must do all in my power to put an end to Kira, you must agree with that. Dwelling on right and wrong will only hold me back."

"That doesn't mean..," Velma began, trailing off as she reluctantly realized that there was no winning an argument with L. As if there ever had been.

"Life is not black and white, Velma. There is no great force of good to defeat evil for us. There is only me against Kira," L said, his voice suddenly softer as he forced himself to look at her again. The growing sadness in her features disturbed him; the once satisfying ice cream now sat in a heavy lump at the pit of his stomach. She was still so innocent, wasn't she? Was that the reason he felt sick?

It was like telling a small child that Santa Claus was a fake.

To a child of Wammy's House, finding out that L was flawed must have just the same effect, he decided.

"If I must become a bit evil myself," he whispered, struggling to keep his voice from shaking, "if that is what I must do in order to defeat a much greater evil... Would you hold that against me?"

She looked him straight in the eyes, quivering brown depths beneath black frames, and all the criss-crossing trains of thought in L's mind came to a screeching halt. For perhaps the first time in his life, just one singular repetitive cry rang out in his head, over and over.

_Please don't cry..._

_Please don't cry..._

_Please..._

_I wouldn't know what to do if you cried..._

Velma turned away, staring at the ground again, which only made that thought ring louder, until he could swear his head would burst open.

_Please don't cry..._

_Please, Velma, please don't..._

"No," she whispered. "You're right, of course. I'm just being naïve, I guess..." L fought back the rather inappropriate sigh of relief that had jumped into his throat. She was talking, so she couldn't be crying. Not yet, anyway. The possibility still hung in the air, though, so L did the only thing he could think of to comfort her.

When Velma at last looked up again, she was more than surprised to find a cherry dangling in front of her face, a spot of chocolate syrup threatening to drip off the bottom. L's long fingers precariously held the very tip of the stem, leaving her the rest to grasp, so there would be no awkward touching of fingers. To anyone else, that would seem an insult, but Velma knew this tiny gesture was just L's way of being considerate. She took the invitation; as his social graces were usually all but non-existent, it would be quite rude to refuse him now.

At least, that's what she told herself the reason was.

L quickly retracted his hand, and Velma ate the cherry with a smile.

"Thanks," she said quietly. He nodded and popped two other cherries, stems included, into his mouth. Crisis averted.

_Eru netsu masani desu paireetsu!_

_Aganau houritsu geemu... _

Mind snapping back to the case, more parallel thoughts running now than ever, L plucked his cell phone from the pocket of his baggy jeans. He pressed a button and brought the device to his ear, gingerly holding it with two fingers.

"Yes, Watari?" he answered, pulling the two cherry stems, now neatly knotted together, from his mouth.

"Ryuuzaki, Matsuda has activated the distress signal."

* * *

"Re rost him!" Scooby exclaimed, tongue lolling out and panting.

"Yeah, but like, where's Matsuda?" Shaggy gasped. The two had ducked behind a food cart that had been abandoned in the frenzy. Scooby peeked over the top of the cart just as the frazzled detective ran clumsily around a corner and headed their way.

"Rere he is!" Scooby said, ducking his head back down.

"Well, like, don't just sit there, Scoob, grab him!" Shaggy told him, perching at the side edge of the cart on his hands and knees. Scooby joined him.

Matsuda huffed and puffed around another corner, but still no Shaggy and Scooby. He could have _sworn_ they'd gone this way! He tugged at his tie. The hot rubber mask wasn't helping matters. The shinigami had fallen quite a bit behind, and Matsuda had lost his fellow scaredy-cats not long after. L was still a mystery, but at least he knew now the reason Shaggy and Scooby stayed thin despite their extreme diets. Never had he seen _anyone_ run so fast!

And to top it off, that stupid radio van had started blaring some bouncy, happy-go-lucky tune, quite ironic in a life-or-death situation like this. A little something to replace the dead air after the deejay had run away, he assumed.

Just as Matsuda was starting to wonder how much farther he could stand to run, two lanky white arms and two suspiciously large and furry brown ones grabbed him and pulled him down.

"Meep!" he squeaked, collapsing on the ground behind the food stand.

"Did you shake off the shinigami, man?" Shaggy asked as Matsuda peeled off his mask. Shaggy's own mask sat atop his head, and Scooby, of course, didn't have one to begin with. Kira only targeted humans, after all.

"I think so," Matsuda panted, straightening his wind-swept suit jacket.

"Like, in that case, let's refuel!" Shaggy suggested, pulling open a small door on the side of the food cart to reveal a stash of American-style hot dogs on buns. He offered one to Matsuda before joining his canine friend in a quick feast.

Matsuda ate the hot dog quickly; the run really _had_ made him hungry, but he supposed he hadn't burned up nearly as much energy as the two veritable road-runners beside him.

_Come on baby, let's take my car_

_To the place where dreams come true!_

"Didn't the deejay say they were playing just Halloween-themed music today?" Matsuda grumbled.

"Reah," Scooby quickly agreed, closing his eyes in bliss and opening his mouth wide to take a bite of his latest hot dog, piled high with relish, sauerkraut, and every other condiment to be found in the cart. He bit down, only to crash his teeth together on nothing but air.

_It's a mile off the interstate_

_And if you wanna dance, well, that's there too!_

"Hyuk hyuk hyuk..."

"Like, what's with that weird laugh, Scoob?"

"R-r-rasn't me!" Scooby whimpered. The three of them reluctantly looked up to find the shinigami perched atop the cart, clutching Scooby's hot dog.

_At the happy haunted sunshine house, we can groove!_

"Zoinks! Not again!" Shaggy cried.

_Oh yeah!_

The three leaped to their feet, pulling their masks back on as they ran full-out down the street, even though the creature had already seen their faces twice now. The shinigami kept on chuckling as he chased after them, claw-like fingers outstretched, wings flapping madly.

Despite the severity of the situation, Matsuda couldn't help but wonder why the buildings around them seemed to be repeating in an endless loop.

The shinigami started to catch up, actually slashing a bit of fabric off Matsuda's back. He forgot his idle observation and just ran faster.

_Well there's cobwebs_

_And everyone's dead..._

Shaggy spotted a sushi bar just ahead and was suddenly struck by inspiration.

"Come on, guys! This way!"

_Once the sun shines in_

_To paint the place red!_

The three dove into the restaurant, quickly barricading the door with a chair, and jumped behind the bar. Even inside, though, that insufferable music could still be heard, and within seconds the shinigami was beating and scratching at the glass door.

_Don't be..._

_Don't be scared girl!_

"What do we do?" Matsuda whispered.

"Like, don't worry! Scoob and I'll handle this!" Shaggy exclaimed. Matsuda peeked over the bar.

_When the monster mash_

_Gets out of this world!_

"He's breaking in!" Matsuda screeched, diving under the bar again as the glass shattered.

The shinigami calmly shuffled up to the bar, still chuckling darkly to himself. Before he could peer over the side of the bar, however, Shaggy and Scooby popped up with grins on their faces. Shaggy had a menu in his hand, and Scooby held a large bowl.

"Good evening, sir! What will you be having tonight?"

Matsuda nearly choked. Where on _earth_ had they gotten those geisha outfits?!

_Come on baby, kick off your shoes_

_Wave your hands from side to side..._

The shinigami growled at them, batting away the menu Shaggy tried to offer him.

"Ah, rude customer, eh?"

_Come on baby!_

Shaggy tossed the menu aside as Scooby pulled the bowl over the monster's huge head. He growled and clawed at it, but it was stuck tight.

_We dunk our heads in the apple bin..._

_Maybe if you're lucky you'll be mummified!_

"Like, run for it!" Shaggy shouted as he and Scooby leaped over the bar, their geisha robes flying off in the process. Matsuda scrambled to his feet and followed them out the door, feet crunching on the broken glass. The shinigami let out a frustrated roar behind them.

_Bah bah bah bah... bah bah bah bah!_

They took off down the street again, but within a few seconds they heard the shinigami crash through the door again.

_Bah bah bah bah... bah bah bah!_

They ran past a lone pedestrian, a buff American-looking man with a blond pompadour and sunglasses – the only person left in abandoned Harajuku besides themselves, it would seem. Matsuda kindly shoved him into an alleyway, hoping it would be enough to save the stranger from Kira's rampage.

_Maybe if you're lucky you'll be mummified!_

"Whoa, mama! Why's everybody in such a hurry around here?" they heard him say. Scooby briefly glanced back – the shinigami was several yards behind, but still following them.

_At the happy haunted sunshine house!_

"Shaggy! Scooby!"

"Huh? Like, that sounded like Fred!" Shaggy exclaimed.

"Rere!" Scooby cried, pointing off to the left. Sure enough, there were Fred, Daphne, Velma, and L, at last, just about a hundred yards away and jogging toward them, their faces covered by creepily cartoonish masks.

"It's after us!" Matsuda shouted as the gap between the two groups closed near a circle of benches.

"The shinigami," L gasped, eyes imperceptibly widening behind his mask.

As the two groups of detectives came together, the shinigami growled once again and rose high into the air above them.

"Zoinks!" Shaggy cried. "There's, like, nowhere to hide here!" Scooby whimpered and jumped into his arms. Shaggy then panicked and jumped into Matsuda's arms.

But the shinigami didn't swoop down on them; instead, it roared before taking off into the distance, disappearing behind some tall buildings.

Matsuda's adrenaline drained away, and he found he could no longer hold his two shaking companions. All three toppled to the ground and opted to stay a while to catch their breath. As the music faded, they could hear police sirens in the distance.

"We should leave and let the police handle the crime scene," L declared. "We do not want anyone, not even the police, to know that we were here, or our cover will be blown." Meanwhile, Fred and Daphne helped their exhausted comrades to their feet.

"Did you find any clues?" Velma asked.

"We were, like, too busy trying to stay _alive,_" Shaggy complained.

"Hey, wait," Matsuda chimed in, "Scooby, what's that on your collar?"

"Ruh? Rat is it?" the Great Dane wondered, trying to bend his head to see.

"A feather!" Daphne exclaimed. She bent down to Scooby's level, plucking a large black feather out from under his collar.

"It must have, like, come off when you put the bowl on it's head, Scooby!" Shaggy exclaimed. Velma procured a small baggy from a hidden pocket in her skirt, and Daphne carefully placed the feather inside.

"And where is Light?" L asked, though not so angrily as Matsuda would have expected. Truth be told, he had been anticipating a lecture about that ever since the shinigami had shown up.

"Over here, guys!"

All of them turned at once to see Light jogging up to them, looking as pristine as ever, except for a strand or two of wind-tousled hair being out of place.

"I heard the commotion outside while in the restroom," he explained quickly, "but when I came out the whole shop was empty, and the door had been locked. I could see people running around outside, so I hurried back to the bathroom and climbed out through the window."

Matsuda, Shaggy, and Scooby exchanged dubious glances, but said nothing.

"I've been wandering around ever since, but I had no idea which way you guys had gone until I heard shouting from this direction," he finished.

"So, Yagami-kun, you went to use the restroom just before the shinigami attacked, and thus became separated from the rest of your team?" L questioned, fumbling around in his left pants pocket.

"Ryuuzaki, it was only a coincidence," Light argued, a look of playful frustration on his face, as if he really were an innocent boy shaking off another of L's baseless suspicions.

"Regardless, the probability of your being Kira has now surpassed 30 percent," L stated, pulling a set of handcuffs from his pocket. "There have been many coincidences today, it would seem."

Light stared dumbfounded at the pale genius as long, slender fingers pulled at the teen's shirt sleeve. Reluctantly, Light obliged and held out his wrists, but L only cuffed his left one. It was not L's goal to leave the boy incapacitated; he was, after all, a brilliant mind that he'd hoped would help him with the case. L closed the other cuff on his own thin wrist.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, Yagami-kun," L said, an odd smirk on his otherwise expressionless face. "I have a pair with a longer chain back at headquarters which I'm sure will prove more comfortable for us both."

Light, and everyone else, in fact, stared back at L in more than a little shock. Apparently this was to be no ordinary arrest, but L didn't care to explain further just yet. Tugging his suspect along with him, he shuffled down the street in the direction of the Mystery Machine's parking spot. The others silently followed; it wasn't easy to read the genius detective's thoughts, of course, but it was quite simple to tell when he was no longer interested in talking.

* * *

"We've found nothing in Misa Amane's apartment, and the analysis of the feather has revealed no connection either."

"I see," L muttered smugly into the cell phone. He dropped two sugars into his tea, still holding three more cubes in his hand.

"Ryuuzaki, with all due respect to your deductive abilities, arresting Amane would be grossly unethical. We cannot hold the girl captive on your opinion alone; there is no evidence whatsoever that points to her involvement in this, and she has a solid alibi. She was at a photo shoot all afternoon on the other side of town, and no one has cited any suspicious behavior in her."

There was a soft grating sound as L's strong hand squeezed and crushed the sugar cubes.

"I understand, Watari. Thank you for your efforts." L snapped the phone shut and dropped it heavily on the desk. Light glanced curiously at the older man, and rightly so. Very few people in world, after all, had the privilege of meeting L in person, and even fewer could say they had witnessed his temper flaring up. It had happened more often than usual on this case, but, truth be told, L's moods seemed to be affected more by Light's presence than by the actions of Kira.

L opened his hand over the tea cup, spilling the loose sugar into the already sweet liquid. He meticulously brushed every last grain off his palm before stirring the tea, though he still did not drink it.

"Ryuuzaki, why did you have Watari call you on the phone when you're at headquarters? You could have just as easily communicated through the computer as you normally do," Light pondered. L glared at him out of the corner of his eye. The boy sat in a wheeled chair identical to his own at L's right, kept close by the six foot chain that now connected them. Not for a moment did L consider that Light _hadn't_ heard the whole conversation, regardless of his precaution of having Watari contact him privately through the phone; the Yagami boy's tactics were as sneaky as L's own, even if he was always playing innocent.

Oh yes, it was _far_ past 30 percent, but no matter the probability, L was absolutely sure he was right. Light Yagami was Kira; Light Yagami was the man behind the shinigami mask. And it certainly _was_ a mask, there was no denying that now – the feather left behind was man-made.

The problem, as always, was a lack of evidence and explanation. No matter how high his percentages went, everything was still technically circumstantial and theoretical; naturally, there had been no surveillance of any kind in the Harajuku shop that Light had disappeared into, and L doubted that this was pure coincidence. Being L, he probably could have the boy locked away on circumstantial evidence alone, but he would never be satisfied by that. The police and the courts might not care about it, but L needed an explanation. He needed to know how Kira killed, and how he had pulled off all these stunts, if only for his own satisfaction, before he could have his false school chum locked away for good. Of course, he also needed to keep him under constant surveillance, since his guilt had become so apparent after today's events. Even the teen's own father, who had stood proud throughout he investigation, maintaining that he would prove his son's innocence no matter what the cost, could not fight this any longer. He still didn't believe his son was Kira, L knew that, but he certainly had his doubts now.

Light had quietly agreed to allow the 24-hour companionship of L, who would be watching and analyzing his every move and word, saying he would do whatever it took to prove his own innocence. Right in front of his father, whose head seemed to hang just a little lower because of it, he had protested the guilt that was now obvious to everyone.

What wasn't obvious, though, was that he hadn't necessarily done it alone.

Yes, it was just a hunch at this point. Watari had been right, of course: L really had absolutely no base with which to accuse Amane of involvement in this. She'd publicly announced in the past that she admired Kira, that he'd brought her parents' murderer to justice, but there were many people who felt that way these days. Just because she happened to personally know a Kira suspect didn't mean she knew anything else. Still, recent events had made L question whether a single person could be behind it all; the shinigami's theatrics, even perpetrated by a genius that, he had to admit, might be his near equal, it seemed unlikely that he could pull it off without help.

Light had long since given up on receiving an answer from L, whose full attention seemed to be on stirring his lukewarm tea, and had returned to his former task of sorting through pages of data and charts. The rest of the task force sat behind them at their usual table, pouring through various news reports and witness testimonies on the shinigami attack, demographics on the handful of people who had died during the first chaotic minutes, as well as the daily task of comparing and analyzing Kira's criminal judgments. Mystery Inc. sat in a semi-circle on the other side of the main room, Shaggy and Scooby lounging on one of the couches, snacking as they told the others yet again about the shinigami's behavior, what it looked like, the sounds it made, and anything else they could remember.

"Hey, guys, look at this!"

Matsuda, of course, had snuck away to watch television.

"Will you turn that thing off and get back to work?!" Aizawa chastised. "We've got more important things to do than see who wins on Idol, you know!"

"Seriously!" Matsuda pleaded. "Sakura TV's running a new Kira program."

"Those idiots will show anything for ratings," Aizawa argued, "it's not worth paying attention to."

"Just watch for a minute, will you?"

Unable to concentrate with the two of them arguing anyway, the rest of the team allowed curiosity to get the best of them. They all turned toward the large television where Matsuda was sitting. A fat and rather greasy-looking mustached man held a microphone, hosting a live studio show.

"_This is Hitoshi Demegawa of Sakura TV, here with the support of hundreds, to welcome our lord Kira!"_

"Matsuda-san, volume!" L demanded, rising from his chair and shuffling toward the television with Light in tow. Matsuda fumbled with the remote for a moment before finally managing to turn up the sound.

"_We have realized the error of our ways, lord Kira! We have taken your gracious mercy for granted, and you have rightly punished us, but now we amend our ways!"_

"What the hell..," Aizawa muttered from across the room.

"_The god Kira lives in our very city, but never do we show him the gratitude he deserves for making our city safe again! So here we are, your loyal supporters, to welcome and thank you!"_ Demegawa swept his arm dramatically behind him as the camera zoomed in on the crowd of fanatics gathered in the large studio. Most of them were older women in ragged peasant-style dresses, some holding candles. The men in the audience looked no better; it was as if they'd dragged in a crowd of homeless to promote their program – which, incidentally, would not have been that surprising, considering the stunts this station had pulled in the past for the sake of ratings. They'd never been above airing fake news and spreading gossip.

"_Spare us, lord Kira!"_

"_Have mercy on us!"_

"_We await your judgment!"_

The cries of the crowd became more muffled as the camera panned across the huge assemblage.

"Hey, there's one normal-looking guy in there," Matsuda pointed out. The tall man did stand out: amid the disheveled fanatics, this single man wore a suit and tie, with smart-looking glasses and long but stylish hair. It was rather strange indeed to see someone looking so very professional in such a crowd.

"There are plenty of _normal_ people who support Kira," Light reasoned, "but these crazy fanatics are the only ones willing to endanger their reputations and their lives by appearing on television like this."

"Indeed," L quietly agreed, though he hadn't truthfully be paying much attention to the conversation. The majority of people, even Kira supporters, had always been kept in check by fear. L had predicted that these shinigami appearances, where even the most innocent could be killed just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, would increase that fear and even turn former supporters against Kira. Even if this did seem to hold true for most of the population, this particular minority could be dangerous. They seemed even _more_ endeared to Kira because of the shinigami incidents – these events seemed to have exalted him somehow, the shinigami's wrath somehow proving Kira's power to be divine.

Within two days, Kira's small group of followers had become this much more radical and devoted, and given more time, might grow in size. It had the potential to become a powerful force; who was to say when this group might resort to violence or terrorism in support of their so-called lord?

This was bad.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes! I have CHASE MUSIC in a written work! XD

I know you're all curious, and, I assume, if you're sitting around reading fanfiction, you should have 10 minutes to spare, right?

Head over to YouTube and search for "bravo dooby doo." Another great Scooby-Doo crossover, and my source for the ridiculously awesome chase song, so you all must watch! It's a great take on the classic Scooby chase music, and _come on_, it even mentions apples! It's a sign, I tell you!

(Just make sure to come back here and review after watching, oki? Thanks.)

All done with the vid? Completely geeking out? (I still am! 8D )

Lots more emo bits in this chappie, too! As for L and Velma's relationship, well.. I'll let you guys draw your own conclusions for now, because really, I don't know either. Those emo bits have a mind of their own, I tell you, and they love to blatantly ignore my plans for how the chapter will go. Once I get started off on a character's past and feelings and whatnot, I never know just where it'll end up. But hey, this is the last of the introductory arc, so might as well include more relationship background stuff, right?

This has been my favorite chapter to write, by the way, there's so much fanservice! I hope you all enjoyed it just as much, but please review either way! And if you haven't yet, please go take the poll in my profile! Thanks!


	5. Jumpin' Bad

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note or Scooby-Doo, and you're delusional if you think otherwise. :P

**A/N:** I owe you guys a million sorries for this! This chappie is.. two weeks late at this point. And it seems kinda short and filler-like to me, even if the content itself is important to the plot.. But it's better than making you wait another week for a longer one, right? x.x;

A lot of the lateness is due to drama – family health problems, cars spontaneously combusting, that kind of thing.. Not only has that taken up a _lot_ of my time, but it also put me in a pretty foul and depressive mood. And depression's not really conducive to writing humor.

Case in point, I did write _something_ during this little Scooby break – an out-of-the-blue Matt x Mello oneshot called Striped. It's long and dark and angsty and depressing as hell (the proof's in the reviews – it's made at least one person actually _cry_. o.o;). I encourage you to read it if you're a fan of this pairing, or just of Mello, because I think it actually turned out quite well – just make sure to check the rating and warnings first. I'm sure you'll agree afterwards that I had absolutely _no business_ writing something as lighthearted as Scooby in that sort of mood. x.x;

And thanks to everyone for the reviews and faves (this fic's gotten over 600 hits too, holy Jeevas! o.o). Now, onward!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Jumpin' Bad**

"Light-kun is very affectionate today."

"What are you going on about now, Ryuuzaki?" Light turned exasperated eyes on the quirky detective at his side.

"I was merely pointing out the change in Light-kun's behavior," L explained, black eyes wide and innocent as he brought his thumb to rest in its familiar spot on his bottom lip. "The first time I had the pleasure of meeting Amane-san, Light-kun did not seem like the doting boyfriend he is today."

Light huffed and walked on ahead, so far as the chain would allow, so that he no longer had to look into L's face.

"Maybe that's because when you met her before, you were in the middle of _interrogating_ me," the teen continued sarcastically. "I wasn't exactly happy to have her show up in such a situation, you know."

"Amane-san seems to be quite accepting of your role in this investigation, though," L pondered, chewing lightly on the abused thumb. "A simple lie was enough to satisfy her curiosity about the handcuffs."

"Trust me, Ryuuzaki, she's not happy in the least about this," Light argued, briefly looking over his shoulder at his hunched companion. "She's always complaining that I don't take her out often enough, and now we can't go on dates at all until you take these stupid things off."

L's thumb dropped at once from his mouth, eyes impossibly wide and trained on the teen. A mischievous smirk played upon his face, but Light had turned away again too quickly to see it. L shuffled forward at a more relaxed pace, despite the chain tugging him along.

"Light-kun is sensitive to Amane-san's feelings as well."

"It isn't as if her feelings are very difficult to predict," Light sighed.

"Yes, her feelings towards Light-kun are indeed obvious," L muttered, now idly digging in his pockets, "but perhaps Light-kun returns some of those feelings after all?"

"After all?" Light repeated. L returned his thumb to his mouth, disappointed that the emergency sugar he kept in his jeans pockets had already run out.

"I admit, my initial analysis of your relationship was that it was completely one-sided."

"Analysis?!" Light stopped in his tracks, turning about to face the detective, hands defiantly resting on his hips. "You were trying to determine if I was _Kira_! Isn't that more important than analyzing my relationship with my girlfriend?"

"You do not consider the relationship important?" L asked, smirk gone as his face became innocently curious again. "First impressions were correct, then."

Light let out a frustrated growl through clenched teeth. He spun gracefully on his heels and continued down the dim grey hallway, tugging the sluggish L along behind him.

"You have_ no idea_ how infuriating you can be sometimes, Ryuuzaki."

L, of course, knew _exactly_ how infuriating he could be. He considered it a valuable talent, in fact, especially when dealing with suspects. Frustration and anger tended to loosen one's verbal restraint.

Today, however, his provocations seemed to affect Light very differently. He didn't even seem to care anymore that L was calling him by his given name, which he had complained endlessly about yesterday evening. Even though L had tried to explain that he was merely being friendly in order to make their new living situation more bearable, the teen had determinedly rejected the use of such familiar terms until after his little encounter with Misa.

Last night, before settling in to bed – or rather, before Light settled into bed, since L had spent the night crouched in the floor with his laptop – Misa had called. As Light had pointed out, the girl did seem desperate for more frequent dates, because this was the cause of the late-night phone call. Light had been the one to suggest that they meet her at the headquarters' showy, hotel-like front entrance. The idea had been to, quote, "explain the situation, so she'll leave me alone." L's knowingly infuriating questions about the nature of this meeting had only resulted in more of the same sort of language, which had only furthered L's theory that Light actually disliked Misa, although she was obviously smitten with him.

After their brief meeting, however, he seemed somehow... _different_.

Nothing Light said now was really insulting to Misa herself – he was now being defensive about the personal details of their relationship, whereas yesterday it seemed more like there were no such personal details to disclose in the first place.

He hadn't been moved by Misa's enthusiastic greetings, which consisted of tackling her beloved with a violent hug. He had calmly given her a few lies about why the two were chained and why he had to stay here for the duration of the investigation – which she'd been too excited to question when he'd told her it was an important, top-secret case. Before the girl left, however, he had hugged her tightly, affectionately, as if he'd suddenly metamorphosed into a loving boyfriend.

It was suspicious – L highly doubted that the sudden change in behavior could have been genuine. He seemed to have whispered something to her, but if L himself couldn't hear it from two feet away, the cameras and bugs in the room wouldn't have picked it up either. It could, of course, be written off as an innocent desire for privacy with his girlfriend, but L, being L, would not accept this conclusion so quickly. This action was the most suspicious thing that had happened between them. Even though he was admittedly grasping at straws as he tried to string together some way, _any_ way, that Misa could be implicated as an accomplice, it had been so very uncharacteristic of the Light Yagami he knew that he couldn't help but question it.

And now, Light didn't even seem to come to anger for the same reasons as before. He seemed almost adamant now in defending the nature of their relationship and his feelings. An old adage came to mind: absence makes the heart grow fonder. Could the idea of being indefinitely separated from his girlfriend have sparked something in the teen – made him realize that he had feelings for the girl after all?

L couldn't expand much on this train of thought, though. For all his studies in psychology, he simply didn't have the social experiences necessary for deeply analyzing these kinds of relationship dynamics. All those who had experienced love over the many centuries of human existence had yet to satisfactorily define it – how could L hope to objectively understand how it worked?

Perhaps he'd have a word about it with Fred and Daphne later. He idly wondered if Velma would know anything...

He chewed a bit too hard on his thumb. What exactly had brought on _that_ thought?

Thankfully, they came upon the imposing double doors of their destination before his mind had a chance to tear any further into that unpleasant question.

Light impatiently swung open the door on the right, rudely pulling L into the room behind him, but nevertheless holding the door until the slow-paced young man was clear of it. L was surprised to see the entire Mystery Inc. sitting down at the table with the Japanese investigators, pouring over the usual data, pockets of friendly conversation erupting every so often among them.

As he and Light made their way towards the monitor wall, L couldn't help but smile ever slightly at the optimistic enthusiasm that Mystery Inc. seemed to have brought to the investigation. After yesterday's exhaustive activities, and the jet lag that they all must have been strongly feeling, L had allowed them to sleep in. It was now nearing one o'clock in the afternoon, but he hadn't expected them all to recover and return to the case until that evening. He knew that they must still be rather tired, but marveled at their high spirits.

Right on cue, the moment L and Light settled in to work at the large desk, Matsuda hopped to his feet and rushed to bring over a tray of coffee and sugars. L blinked up at the young man who'd suddenly appeared at his side, grinning and seeming overall much happier than usual about serving him. Such a chipper mood was nothing unusual for Matsuda, whom L had always viewed as rather naïve and overly optimistic, but he always grumbled when asked to get coffee. Now, though, he hadn't even needed to be asked.

"Here you go, Ryuuzaki," Matsuda said nervously, wondering how long L's wide eyes would stay on him. Had he done something wrong again?

Matsuda sighed in relief when the eccentric genius before him lost interest and began his usual ritual of dropping sugar cubes one by one into his cup. Taking the handle delicately between two fingers, he brought the drink to his lips, and paused.

"Thank you, Matsuda-san," he said softly, at last taking a sip of the steaming brew. Matsuda gawked for a moment before a goofy grin found its way to his face. Maybe the small role he had on the team was appreciated after all, just like Shaggy had said.

"Um, anyway, Ryuuzaki," Matsuda began, trying to screw his face into a serious expression, "there's been no shinigami activity since the incident yesterday, but Kira's judgments of criminals are still continuing normally."

"I see," L muttered, setting his cup down on the tray and idly stirring it with a small spoon. As he'd thought, there was no attack today. Each of the previous attacks had occurred between noon and one o'clock, and he had purposely arranged Light's meeting with Misa to coincide. If an attack happened while Light was chained to him, the others might view it as clearing _him_, rather than implicating _her_. If no attacks occurred, this raised the likelihood that Light was the perpetrator, but did nothing to build a case against Misa. Now, if something happened tomorrow, while Misa was unaccounted for but Light was still in custody, while nothing had occurred today while both were under his watch, that might provide grounds enough to start officially investigating her.

"As for the judgments themselves," L pondered, black eyes following the swirling froth in his cup, "was there a high concentration of deaths around the noon hour, as in the last two days?"

"None," Matsuda replied, anxiously fidgeting with his fingers. It was so rare that L asked him specific things like this, he could only pray that he wouldn't mess up and say something stupid.

"So I thought," L concluded, turning in his chair. He glanced towards the table where the other team members were seated – several had paused in their work, leaning forward as they tried to hear the conversation.

"These shinigami incidents are directly related to Kira," he addressed them. "Whether the person in the costume is Kira or simply an accomplice is yet to be seen, but these theatrics are undeniably being orchestrated by Kira himself. The judging of criminals changes pace when the attacks occur – there is at best a three percent chance that this is due to mere coincidence."

L looked sideways at Light, whose brown eyes were curious and attentive, but held none of the usual malice, before returning his cold gaze back toward the others. It was odd – Light always had a slight tinge of anger to his eyes whenever L talked about Kira, which was understandable in light of him being singled out as the prime suspect. Now, however, it was almost as if he wasn't worried at all about the inevitable accusations; it wasn't his typical overconfidence, but something closer to actual belief in his own innocence.

"Of course," L continued, "we cannot ignore the fact that there has been no attack today. The precedented time for such incidents has passed uneventfully."

The beginnings of a scowl crept onto Light's face, but he wasn't as quick to mask it as usual.

"It is also quite interesting that these attacks have stopped on the very first day that Light-kun has been in my custody," L concluded, turning toward him with the slightest of smirks. If this didn't rile him up, nothing would.

"You conveniently forget to mention," Light interjected, "that all of this hinges on your theory that these attacks happen on a daily basis."

"And they have, Light-kun," L said, blinking innocently as he reached toward the coffee tray behind him, "for two days in a row, at approximately the same time, and for the same duration."

"That's my whole point!" Light argued, leaping to his feet. L, taking the small sugar bowl from the tray, simply waited for him to continue. Light seethed as the detective calmly downed a cube of sugar, completely unfazed by the outburst.

"Ryuuzaki, this has gone on for _two days_. That's not enough to declare it a daily pattern!" Light continued, ignoring the rest of the room as he watched cube after cube disappear between L's lips. "For all we know, this could have been an isolated incident, nothing more than a warning from Kira to the city, like Demegawa said. Or, I don't know, maybe Kira's just taking the weekend off!"

L looked forlornly at the now empty sugar bowl; it wasn't often that he met someone who could rant and rave long enough for him to finish off his snack before having to give a response.

"The point is, it's too early to say for sure what the pattern is, and it's ridiculous that you're holding me captive on such a flimsy theory!"

L's face snapped up toward the boy, sweets forgotten, a look of cold hatred simmering behind his empty eyes. He himself had acknowledged Light's deductive abilities, even thought them similar to his own, and it was this very opinion that was currently kept him from living in a prison cell. He'd plead innocence all along, of course, but to outwardly insult L's reasoning was going too far.

"That theory alone is hardly the reason for this, _Yagami_-kun," L said, his tone bordering on a growl as he jangled the chain between them. Light unconsciously took a small step back, surprised by the sheer amount of malice the typically inexpressive detective was emanating, but unwilling to concede nonetheless.

Matsuda, though rather clueless to the reason for the sudden animosity between the two geniuses, had the good sense to slink back toward the table while they argued.

"I don't care about your damned theories, Ryuuzaki!" Light shouted, hands curling into fists at his side. "I'm not Kira! I _know_ I'm not Kira! And I'm sure as hell not flying around town in a _monster costume_ under Kira's orders, either!"

"You were quite willing to go along with this yesterday," L replied, his tone sardonic but still rather quiet compared to Light's angrily rising pitch. "Didn't you agree that some form of confinement was acceptable, since it could only prove your innocence more quickly?"

"Now that I've had the time to think about it," Light continued, bringing his voice back down to a normal level again, "I don't think that's true at all. It doesn't matter if I'm chained to you or sitting in a jail cell or just plain _dead, _because you've already decided this. No amount of evidence will ever be enough to convince you that I'm not Kira, will it?"

"I cannot be convinced unless said evidence clears one-hundred percent of your guilt..."

"You _want_ me to be Kira, Ryuuzaki," Light interrupted, "because you're not willing to admit that you were wrong about me, isn't that it?"

"Yes, that may be true," L answered softly, bringing his thumb to his mouth, "but, as a human being, is it really so wrong that I want my theories to be correct?"

"Of course it's wrong!" Light shouted, brown eyes wild with fury as he drew back a fist. "Your stubbornness is only going to get more people killed!"

The punch hit L squarely across the cheek and sent him tumbling from his chair. He rolled across the floor until he hit the base of the glass stairs, Light spilling gracelessly onto the floor as the chain tugged him along. L quickly recovered, pulling himself into a frog-like crouch, while Light drew himself up onto his knees.

"I believe Light-kun has misunderstood me," L muttered, rubbing at his cheek. "Simply saying that Light Yagami is Kira does not solve the case, after all. Until we determine how Kira kills, the case is far from closed, and you're far from convicted."

Light seethed, leapt to his feet, and jerked L up by his shirt collar.

"Then why are we still sitting around?" Light demanded. "Why aren't we out looking for leads, like yesterday? Or are you afraid to take any action until someone else pushes you to do it?"

"Shouldn't we help him?" Matsuda whispered, cowering beside the table next to Scooby. The rest looked around nervously at each other.

"Light-kun, no matter your opinion," L said gruffly, eyes shadowed by several disturbed locks of black hair, "once is once."

L spun on one foot, wrenching his shirt from Light's grip as his leg struck out to kick the teen's face.

"I don't think he _needs_ any help..," Daphne mumbled.

The two toppled back toward the desk, the chain pulling L along by the momentum of his own powerful kick. Light landed painfully on an overturned chair while L expertly rolled into another crouch.

Velma was unwittingly captivated by the display. Where, and _when_, had L taken up such exotic martial arts? How was it that a lanky body with such terrible posture could move so fluidly, and with such effortless grace?

She grimly realized that she knew even less about her old friend than she'd thought just yesterday. Even if they'd never been particularly close, he'd never been so much of a mystery to her. Now, he seemed to have limitless surprises in store, but with very limited explanations.

They exchanged another brute punch and artful kick before the team decided to break them up. The two had managed to get to their feet by the time Fred and Aizawa reached them, each gripping the other by the shirt as they readied paralleled punches. L lowered his fist as he saw the men approaching, and Light took the opportunity to hit the distracted detective square in the nose. L stumbled back and fell from the surprising force of the unfair blow. Fred and Aizawa each latched onto one of Light's arms, holding the still-fuming teen back.

Without thought or hesitation, Velma hopped up from her seat at the table and rushed to L's side. He sat sprawled on the floor, a small amount of blood trickling from his fast-bruising nose. Velma snatched a napkin off the coffee tray on the desk and knelt beside him.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, dabbing away the blood.

"I... believe so," he stammered, wide eyes trained on Velma's face as she studied his nose with a frown. It didn't _look_ broken, but the hit had been dead-on. It'd be best to check...

"Tell me if this hurts, all right?" L gave a slight nod, though he wasn't entirely sure what could be hurtful about cleaning up a bit of blood...

Plump fingers gingerly touched the bridge of his nose, bringing his thoughts to an immediate halt. They trailed lightly toward the tip, slowly, carefully checking for irregularities while trying to avoid causing his throbbing nose any undue pain.

Velma attributed the slight blush rising on L's pale cheeks to the physical exertion of the fight.

"Okay, I guess it's not broken," she said at last, a cautious smile making its way onto her freckled face. She refolded the napkin, hiding the blood on the inside, before placing it in L's right hand. He blinked at it for a moment, distracting him just long enough for Velma to grab his other hand. Before he'd fully realized what she was doing, she had pulled his arm around her shoulders and planted a supportive hand near the small of his back.

Aizawa and Fred released the now calmed Light as Velma helped L to his feet and directed him toward the only desk chair that hadn't been knocked over during the struggle. Light righted another chair and sat in his increasingly familiar place at L's right, the other two men still standing near him just in case.

"Now just tilt your head back, and hold that napkin there until the bleeding stops," Velma was telling L, feeling as if she were talking to a child. He certainly did come off as a spoiled brat at times – so many things had always been done for him by Watari or Roger, she had to wonder how he'd ever fare on his own.

After a few moments of quiet, Light had completely forgotten his anger, L's nose had almost quit bleeding, and the others had settled back in at the table to continue their work. The tension between the two young men had been obvious to everyone, and now that they were literally stuck with each other, perhaps it was inevitable that they would come to blows. They could only hope that this brief display of violence would be their last.

However, Light seemed to be right about one thing: L was stubbornly persistent in his accusations. None of them could predict just how long Light would be under his personal surveillance, or, if the boy really was innocent, how long it would take for L to be fully convinced of it.

Suddenly, the table of idle data on the main screen disappeared, leaving nothing but a off-white background in its place – the hallmark of a phone call from one of L's many contacts. Though it made no sound, it was enough to instinctively grab the attention of most of the people in the room. L spun round in his chair and brought his full focus onto the blank screen, still holding the bloodied napkin loosely beneath his nose. The already quiet room was plunged into even deeper silence as they waited to see what letter would pop up – Watari, after all, usually called on L's laptop rather than the room's monitors, so it must be coming from someone on the outside.

For seemingly endless moments, they sat and watched, but no letter came.

L snatched his laptop off the desk, the forgotten napkin falling to the floor, and typed furiously until a W appeared on its small screen.

"Yes, Ryuuzaki?"

"What is happening, Watari?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir..."

"The main monitor, Watari. It went blank, as though a call was coming in," L explained, typing one-handed on a keyboard on the desk, his left hand balancing the laptop on his knees.

"I've not detected any calls here. According to the system ghost, the main monitor is connected to console 16A, which is currently displaying a data chart. Perhaps the monitor itself has malfunctioned?"

"Are you picking up on any suspicious activity in the system?" L asked hurriedly, ignoring the elder's question as he pulled up a stream of data on one of the smaller wall monitors.

"None, Ryuuzaki. Nor has any of the building's surveillance picked up anything out of the ordinary."

"I see, thank you." L snapped down the laptop's lid and placed it back on the desk, eyes trained on the scrolling data before him.

"Ryuuzaki, what's going on here?" Light demanded, leaning over the detective's shoulder to see if he could make sense of the data. He considered himself quite skilled with computers, but he didn't know what L could possibly get out of watching lines of hexadecimal numbers – a mere step away from raw machine language – going by on the screen.

Ignoring the confused looks from Light, and his cringing senses telling him that the rest of the team must have been staring at him just the same from across the room, L remained focused on watching row after row of numbers flying by. 0 through 9 and A through F: the collected status information for the entire building's intricate computer network, reduced to 16 digits. Wide eyes painstakingly watched, knowing that the pivotal clue would flash by for just an instant before disappearing, entering and leaving the stream before the data even reached the buffer, long before it was saved in the logs.

_There._

An anomaly amongst the numbers, something that didn't belong. M2.

The right corner of L's mouth quirked up until he was almost smiling.

"We are being hacked, Light-kun."

"_What?!_" Light screeched, jumping up from his chair. The rest of the team let out a cacophony of similar outbursts and gasps. Before L could elaborate, though, an Old English letter finally appeared on the main screen.

An elegant M, with a small subscript of 2.

"Line's up..," a slightly distorted voice said in English over the speakers. L smiled in earnest, patiently waiting even as those around him seemed on the brink of panic.

"And... we're live," said the voice, now perfectly clear. The task force glanced nervously at one another. All of L's contacts used voice scramblers, but this one didn't bother. Moreover, they'd never seen anyone actually call L – he was always the one to initiate contact, probably because no one knew how to go about contacting _him_. Most of Mystery Inc. was confused as well, but Velma looked as though she were about to burst into giggles.

"L-sama! Are you reading me?" the voice exclaimed in slightly accented Japanese. Light sunk back down into his chair – the voice was male, but it sounded like a kid's, or maybe a young teenager's. How had L's system been hacked by some punk kid?

L pulled a microphone toward him, pressing down the button that applied his signature scrambler.

"Perfectly. May I assume that the few minutes between your initial connection and now were spent securing this line?"

"Yep, it's safe now, L-sama. No need for scrambling." L promptly let go of the button.

"I would expect nothing less, Matt-kun," L said, a rare look of genuine, unmasked fondness on his pallid face.

"Sorry it took so long to set up, but I wanted to make sure..." L chuckled ever slightly as the boy's voice uneasily trailed off.

"Your skills have certainly improved, I'm quite proud of you."

"I... um... th-th-thank you, L-sama," the boy stammered, sounding absolutely dumbfounded by the compliment.

"You did not call merely to test your abilities, though," L declared.

"Right. It was actually Mello's idea..."

"As I thought. Put him on, Matt-kun." Across the speakers, shuffling and mumbling could be heard.

"...'s about time," another boy muttered in English, his voice a bit deeper and gruffer than Matt's.

"Hello, Mello-kun," L said.

"Hi, L-sama! How are you?" the second boy asked, his voice growing high with excitement. The others in the room had a bit more trouble understanding this boy. Matt's Japanese had only a minor English accent to it, which only the natives in the room had even noticed. But this boy, Mello, had a somewhat thicker accent, something like Russian or eastern European.

"Things could be better," L pondered, rubbing his still sore nose, "but overall I am well. How are you boys faring?"

"Uh, fine I guess, but the dog is driving me crazy..."

"Is Scrappy not behaving well?" L asked, abandoning his nose to bring a thumb to his mouth.

"It's not that..."

"Is he not getting along with the children?"

"That's the problem," Mello replied with a sarcastic laugh, "he gets along with _everyone. _Especially Matt, which means he's always hanging around our room. Little runt annoys the hell out of me."

"Language, Mello-kun," L scolded. Light stared unabashedly at the man chained at his left – he talked to these kids like a father, or rather, a big brother.

"Sorry, L-sama. It's just that he's always running around like he's hyper or something. He's even tried to pick fights with some of the tougher kids, though I don't know if he was serious. I mean, he's what, a foot tall?"

"The two of you got in a fight, then?" L asked knowingly.

"I wouldn't even call it a fight. More like him getting more acquainted with my shoe."

"Mello-kun, please refrain from violence. He is only a puppy, after all."

"Good thing, too. That means I won't have to bother killing him myself if he gets into my chocolate stash.."

"Mello..."

"Sorry again."

"Mello-kun," Velma said, walking up behind L. "Has he been eating a lot of sugar, perchance?"

"...Velma-san? That you?"

"Yeah, it's me," she said, smiling widely.

"I don't know what he's been into, he's been like this ever since you guys dropped him off. Going around yelling 'puppy power' at everyone, thinks he's fu... _freakin'_ invincible, like he can take anybody here, and won't stop even when he gets his furry a... _butt _kicked..."

"Sounds like the canine version of you, actually," Velma laughed. "Maybe you can't get along because you're just too similar?"

"Ha, yeah right," Mello muttered. Matt's snickering could be heard in the background, along with something that sounded like _"who's the dog now?"_,followed by something that sounded like a fist striking Matt's head.

"Anyway," Mello continued, "how goes the case?"

"We have made some progress," L said, chewing his thumbnail, "but the details, of course, are classified."

"Well, if you decide you need any more help..."

"No."

"Aww, come on, L-sama, how am I supposed to succeed you one day if you never let me work on an actual case?"

"I have not yet chosen my successor, Mello-kun. Near still comes first in the grade rankings, does he not?"

"Yes," Mello grumbled, "but I'll beat him yet, you'll see!" A small but genuine smile came to L's face.

"I know you'll do your best. And speaking of Near, is he there with you as well?"

"No, the brat's still in the common room, as far as I know."

"I know you dislike him, Mello-kun, but please refrain from calling him names."

"Sorry, L-sama. But anyway, he's been making this giant fort out of CD cases..."

"They're DVD's, I think," Matt said in the background.

"CD, DVD, whatever... As I was saying, he's been making this fort thing in front of the TV all day, so I _considerately_ decided not to interrupt him by telling him about this call..."

"You really shouldn't have left him out," L chided.

"Yeah, well, that fort thing managed to catch Scrappy's attention, too, and there was _no way_ I'd let go of an opportunity to get rid of him for a while..."

"He's not _that_ bad, Mel," Matt groaned.

"Boys, as much as I enjoy hearing from you," L said before the inevitable argument between the two roommates could begin, "I need to get back to work now."

"Oh, right," Mello said, disappointment sounding oddly foreign in the boy's previously spirited voice.

"I'm sorry, Mello-kun," L told him. Light was surprised at the sincerity of his tone – L always seemed so determined in all his actions that he doubted the cold detective had ever honestly apologized for anything.

"You'll at least come to visit us when the case is over, right?" Mello asked.

"I haven't the freedom to make such promises, but, as always, I will try my best to pay a visit between cases."

"Sure," the boy muttered.

"Goodbye, Mello-kun."

"Bye, L-sama." Sounds of shuffling and retreating footsteps could be heard.

"Matt-kun, I trust you will patch up the hole?"

"Of course," Matt said confidently, obviously sitting closer to the microphone again now that Mello had apparently left. "Your system will be more secure than ever when I'm through, trust me."

"I do hope so. Goodbye, Matt-kun."

"Later, L-sama..."

The M and small 2 disappeared again as the line went dead with a soft beep, leaving the main screen blank again for a few moments. Eventually the off-white background faded away, revealing the data table again. L pushed the microphone away and opened his laptop to get back to work, hoping the others would take the hint. Velma strolled back to the table to resume her previous tasks, but the rest weren't sure what to do. It seemed that every day brought new questions about L, but there were rarely any answers – now, however, they'd just witnessed what appeared to be a slice of his private life, and none of them knew quite how to react.

"Ryuuzaki," Light muttered, breaking the silence of the room, "what was that all about?"

"I thought you were against delving into others' personal relationships, Light-kun," L deadpanned, reaching for his forgotten cup. He took a long, slow sip of his now cold coffee, eyes still focused on his laptop.

Light sighed as the rest of the team quietly settled back in to their tedious daily research. It seemed there would be no answers from L today.

* * *

**A/N:** It's finally over... x.x; I apologize once again for the epic FAIL that is this chapter. Feel free to say it's crap if you're kind enough to actually bother reviewing it.

Much as you might hate me for it, I must tell you that, even if basically _nothing_ happened in this chapter, there are hints o'plenty of important plot things, so despite the crappiness, I hope you paid attention... There's a very short time lapse between this chapter and the next, and that's really the only reason it ended here. Stuff will actually _happen_ in the next one, I promise..

But.. Mello and Matty have made their appearance, and that was the one thing that I liked in this chapter. :)

And yes, in my mind, Mello should have an accent, at least when he's younger. Maybe it just faded away over time from living in English-speaking countries. But come on.. Mello speaking with an unknown eastern European accent.. wouldn't that be the most fangirl-gasm-inducing thing ever? :D

And in case you didn't know, the chapter title is a bit of 60's slang. To "jump bad" means to act tough or pick a fight.

**Review, please**, even if you hated it... And then go read Striped. It should restore whatever faith you might have had in my writing skills before reading this crummy chapter.

Yeah, I'm pimping that for all it's worth. XP


	6. Lay It On Me

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Scooby-Doo or Death Note. If I did, well.. this is what would happen.

**A/N:** Ah, just _slightly_ late, only by a single day, which is amazingly good for me! I didn't think I'd get this one out until Monday or Tuesday. Dunno why I delude myself into thinking that this is on any real schedule anyway...

I should stop making next-chapter promises, too, until I'm absolutely sure.. There is some action in this, but not as much as I thought there would be. The buildup took longer than I would have thought, so this arc's big event happens next chapter. Really, I _mean_ it this time. x.x;

Don't be discouraged by the lack of action; I'm actually quite happy with this chapter. It's better than the last one, and, at least in terms of plot, it does have much more going on. There are more emo bits in this one, some juicy revelations, and a bit o' fanservice to boot.

Thanks for the reviews, and for 800+ hits! I'm so honored! :D

* * *

**Chapter 6: Lay It On Me**

"Three days now, and still nothing," Velma muttered, taking a small bite of her sandwich.

"But isn't inactivity exactly what we're looking for here?" Daphne asked, disinterestedly picking at the remnants of her salad. "I mean, if nothing happens while Light is in custody, that just builds more of a case against him, right?"

"Yes, but just proving Light guilty doesn't solve the case," the brunette continued. She set the sandwich on her tray, let out a sigh, and leaned back in the hard plastic chair. "Even if he's the one in the costume, we still don't know how or _why_ he orchestrated the attacks. We can't say for sure that he's Kira, either. Ryuuzaki himself can testify that he's done nothing suspicious, and yet the killings continue unabated. Kira and the shinigami may even be separate people."

"Who knows?" Daphne said, an exasperated look crossing her fair face as she vainly chased a cherry tomato around her bowl. "Maybe Kira really does have some psychic power that allows him to kill, so he can still carry out criminal judgments even under Ryuuzaki's surveillance."

"Like Aizawa said the other day," Velma argued, "if he could kill in a way that left no evidence whatsoever, he wouldn't have targeted those FBI agents. He'd have nothing to cover up, and even if caught, there'd be no way to convict him unless he confessed."

"Yeah, and Light's not confessing a thing," Daphne replied, abandoning the useless disposable fork and opting to grab the tomato between two fingers. She held it precariously, careful not to get any salad dressing on her hand. Velma thought she looked oddly like L as she popped it daintily into her mouth.

"It is rather hard to believe that he's still sticking to his story," Velma mused, "and now he's even claiming not to remember the details of that day in Harajuku. Now he just says he heard noise outside, left the store through the bathroom window, and joined in with the crowd for a while before running into us."

"He was a lot more specific on the day of," the redhead agreed. "It's weird that he would forget _any_ of it. If he was telling the truth, I would think he'd still remember every detail, being that it was such an important day to the case."

"And if it was all a lie, he would have consciously tried to remember every detail of what he'd said, knowing that Ryuuzaki would pick it apart." Velma sat forward again, leaning on her elbows on the table. She tucked one hand securely beneath her chin, as if the added support would stop her racing thoughts from making her head spin.

"The boy's a puzzle, that's for sure. I mean, nothing really significant happened to _me_ during all of that, except when we caught up with Shaggy and Scooby's group and saw the shinigami, but I still remember everything clearly..."

Daphne suddenly shifted in her seat, leaning in towards Velma until their shoulders touched, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. The brunette raised an eyebrow at her old friend. She knew that look – it typically heralded the arrival of juicy gossip, and thus was rather out of place when discussing a murder case. But then, Daphne always had been the more optimistic and carefree of the two of them.

"I remember, for instance," Daphne whispered, "that you and Ryuuzaki were having a pretty intense conversation just before the distress call came in." Velma's eyes went wide as she quickly turned away.

"There was nothing intense about it," Velma hissed, feeling a slight blush coming to her cheeks, "we were just talking about... his investigative methods."

"Come _on_, Velms," Daphne pressed, playfully poking her shoulder, "talking business doesn't warrant him giving you that cherry."

"He... he was just being nice," the brunette stammered, nervously toying with the thick ribbed fabric of her sweater sleeve.

"I doubt that he'd share his sweets with just anyone, and certainly not just for the sake of being nice," Daphne argued, grin widening as her eyes twinkled in amusement. "I mean, you guys are... _friends_, aren't you?"

"We were, I guess," Velma sighed, "but that was a long time ago, Daph." The younger woman frowned.

"You've always been so vague about him. Can't you just tell me what happened between you two?" Daphne asked softly. "Did you guys have a falling out, or get into a fight one day?"

Velma looked sidelong at the redhead, a familiar pang of guilt running through her as she saw the concern in her friend's eyes. She'd known Daphne for years and considered the girl her best friend, but there were so many things she'd never told her, or couldn't tell her. The curse of Wammy's House, she mused, was the same secretive nature that kept its children safe. She'd avoided telling Daphne this for such a long time, perhaps because she doubted that she and L would ever be together again long enough for it to matter. On this case, though, she couldn't seem to avoid him, much less stop all the memories from coming back.

"You have to be pretty close friends to get into a fight," Velma muttered, "and we never got that close."

Daphne laid a supportive hand on Velma's orange acrylic shoulder. The brunette adjusted her glasses and took a quick glance around the small cafeteria. The other members of the team, minus L and Light, were taking their lunch breaks at the three small tables closest to the coffee pot, near the door that led to the kitchen, and were all deep in conversation themselves. There was an empty table between theirs and the nearest occupied one, too, so Velma knew that their little talk wouldn't be overheard.

"It's not like we ever did much together," Velma began, "but neither of us is very social anyway, so that should come as no surprise. We once got paired for a project, since we were the top two students, and after that, we got together to study once or twice a week. That was pretty much it..."

"So, if your friendship was really so casual, how can you say it's ended?" Daphne asked. "I mean, I know you hardly ever see each other since you left the orphanage, but if you weren't that close to begin with, and had no real obligations to each other, it seems like the separation wouldn't matter."

"I don't know, it's just..," Velma said, her voice falling to a whisper as she tugged and fidgeted with her sleeve, "it's stupid, really. It's just some stupid childish thing..."

"Velms, you can tell me," Daphne said with a sympathetic smile. Velma sighed again, sitting back in her chair. She pulled off her glasses and cleaned the lenses on the hem of her skirt before continuing.

"It was just... this birthday thing," she said as she replaced her glasses. "Nobody at Wammy's ever had parties or anything, but he and I always got together on our birthdays. We didn't do much, just hung out and forgot about our studies for an evening. Sounds lame, I know, but it was kind of an unspoken tradition..."

"And he broke the tradition, I take it?" Daphne asked, taking a small sip of her bottled water.

"Yeah, you could say that," Velma mumbled.

"Well, look on the bright side!" Daphne exclaimed, grinning again. "If this case goes on long enough, he might just get the chance to make that up to you!"

"I doubt he even remembers when mine is any more," Velma said with a forced laugh. She picked up her sandwich again, hoping that eating might disguise the aged sadness that threatened to spill into her voice.

"You never know, he might surprise you," Daphne assured her. "Do you still remember his?"

"Of course," Velma replied. She quickly ate another bite – why had she admitted that so easily? And why had she said it so defensively?

Daphne only smiled wider as Velma began to blush again. She swallowed fast, nearly making herself choke in the process, as her mind raced for an excuse.

"Don't give me that look, Daph," she managed at last, "I only remember because it happens to fall on a holiday."

"Sure," Daphne giggled. Velma blushed even redder, but tried to hide it behind a sip from her soda can. The redhead stood from the table and stretched.

"I'm gonna get some coffee, you want any?" she asked as she picked up her tray of half-eaten lunch.

"No thanks."

"Okay then," she said cheerily, sashaying toward the trash can. After dumping her garbage, she bumped into Mogi near the coffee pot. Apparently the confident girl could even persuade this quiet man into idle conversation. Velma marveled from a distance as they talked, Daphne politely laughing every so often.

Velma fiddled with the hem of her sweater, running the familiar worn fabric through her short fingers. Maybe if she'd had the kind of social graces that Daphne possessed, things might not have turned out this way. L's lack of social skills had never been a secret, after all. She'd always known that the burden of maintaining their fragile friendship had been hers to bear; she'd known that he would never make any real effort, because a boy like him didn't care about friends. She'd once thought he was another lonely child like herself, but as the years went on it became obvious that he didn't mind being alone. When it came to friends, L could take them or leave them.

Maybe, if she'd tried a little harder, he wouldn't have left _her_.

Or, if nothing else, he might have let her wish him one last happy birthday.

Velma jumped from her seat, tossing her tray into the trash can as she rushed out the door. The meandering hallways were dull and dim and empty, but that was just what she needed. The cheerful social atmosphere of the small cafeteria was only making her feel worse.

Most children at Wammy's didn't share their birth dates, even with their closest friends. Part of that was due to the secrecy that had been ingrained in them by the House, the curse that kept their identities safe but locked others out of their hearts. Part of it was that the idea of celebrating a birthday brought memories of family and old friends, of the former lives that each orphan kept strictly secret, and that none wished to be reminded of.

But L had told her about his birthday, and, for lack of a better reaction, she'd disclosed hers as well. She felt obligated to do something more for him, though, since he'd trusted her with such a secret. So, on Halloween night, while the children gathered in the common room, costumed in outfits that most had made themselves, eagerly gathering candy from the teachers, an eight-year-old Velma snuck away to the abandoned kitchen to steal a piece of strawberry cake. She found L, as usual, alone in his room, sitting in the floor, but his face brightened when he saw the cake. She bent to place it proudly in front of him, and a strange idea took hold of her. It came and went so suddenly that she couldn't grasp the real reason for it, but she kissed his cheek. It was quick and shy, and in the awkward seconds that followed, all she could do was whisper a happy birthday to him. She'd stood straight up then, blushing furiously, and would have bolted from the room had he not quietly asked her to sit down and share the cake with him. The rest was as she'd told Daphne: they'd merely sat in his room for a while, doing basically nothing as the other kids had their fun downstairs.

They never spoke of it afterwards, and she was sure he'd forgotten all about it. That is, until several months later, when her ninth birthday came around. Until he came to her room, bringing with him a piece of cake to share, an unsure peck for her cheek, and a whispered happy birthday.

Velma paused in her wanderings, looking at the identical walls all around and the meaningless numbers on the doors. She could easily get herself lost in this labyrinth disguised as a hotel. Leaning against the grey wall, she sighed and wrung her hands in the already stretched fabric of her sleeves.

Sure, their little tradition had seemed ridiculous and childish as they grew into teenagers, but it wasn't something to be discussed or decided. It was just something they did, and no matter how silly it might have been, it was their secret. Even the little boys, L's future successors, who loved and idolized him so, didn't know about it. Somehow, Velma had always felt that there was something special in the ritual, and she'd hoped all along that he thought so as well, though she knew better now.

If it had meant anything to him at all, he wouldn't have refused her on his last birthday at Wammy's.

Suddenly, there was a loud crackling sound above her head. She jumped away from the wall, and looked up to see, instead of the monster she instinctively expected, a speaker, hidden cleverly behind a light fixture. She probably would have never noticed it there had it not spouted static directly in her ear.

There was another crackle, some shuffling, and then L's urgent voice rang out.

"_Everyone, come to the main room immediately!"_

His tone itself was enough to dash Velma's thoughts away and send her sprinting toward the elevators.

* * *

"I don't see why we can't just eat lunch with the others," Light whined, leaning backwards in his chair, his head hanging upside-down to look at the furiously typing detective crouched in the chair behind him.

"I am working, Light-kun," L grumbled, tapping the backspace key loudly. The teen's constant complaining was causing him more spelling errors than he'd ever made in his life.

"You never _stop_ working, Ryuuzaki," Light said, righting his head to glance at the television on the far wall, "but in case you haven't noticed, us _humans_ need a break from time to time."

"We have taken communal showers for the past three mornings, Light-kun," L said, finally giving up and closing his laptop. "I should think my anatomy alone would be proof enough of my humanity."

"That's not what I meant," Light huffed, "and it's not like I was noticing that anyway..."

"You seemed take great notice the first time," L muttered. Light turned his head to glare at him before rising from his seat. He gathered up the paper wrapper left behind by his long-finished sandwich and, crumpling it into a ball, tossed it into the nearest waste bin, as the chain didn't allow him to actually walk over to it.

"If you're finally done, can we go sit on the couch? It's straining my eyes to watch from here," the teen said, blatantly ignoring L's previous comment as he idly fidgeted with the cold steel bracelet on his wrist. L climbed out of his chair, an exasperated hint of a scowl on his face, and followed his suspect to sit on one of the large couches near the television.

In the short time they'd spent together, L had learned a great deal about Light's stubborn nature. He found it to his advantage to humor the boy when he could – it only made it easier to deny him whenever his requests posed a problem.

Now that they were closer, Light apparently decided that he didn't like the program he'd been casually watching all this time and starting surfing through the channels. L wriggled his toes in annoyance at the flashes and sharp, clipped noises that accompanied every channel jump, but said nothing. He leaned forward, snatching a dish of candies from the small central coffee table, and began popping them one by one into his mouth as he tried to ignore the noisy device mounted on the wall.

"_But... when will I see you again?"_

"_I can't say, darling. My time's not my own any more..."_

"Hey, this must be that made-for-TV movie that Misa was in a while back," Light said, finally stopping on a single channel for more than two seconds.

"Your girlfriend starred in a movie, and you have never bothered to watch it?" L asked, carefully forming each word around the gummy orange slices stuffed in his mouth.

"_But I love you! How can you just leave me like this?"_

"_It's my duty, I have to go..."_

"It's a chick flick, Ryuuzaki, can't you tell?" said Light, waving his hand emphatically at the young couple on the television. Misa, fashionable as always, was feverishly grasping at the hands of her handsome co-star. He was a mere step away from boarding a train, but the lovesick blonde held him back.

"_Goodbye, darling. Someday we'll meet again,"_ said the man, finally shaking off the girl's hands and picking up his luggage from the ground. Misa said nothing, just staring plaintively at him as a single tear fell down her cheek.

L had unconsciously paused in his snacking, fascinated at the genuine acting skill that Light's rather ditsy girlfriend possessed.

"_Goodbye,"_ she whispered, though her lover was already gone.

"Sheesh, that's the same look she always pulls on me when she's trying to guilt me into taking her on a date," Light muttered.

"Is that so, Light-kun?" L wondered, blinking thoughtfully at the teen beside him.

"Yeah," Light replied with a sardonic laugh, "say what you will about her intelligence, but she's definitely talented when it comes to acting. She's really been laying it on me lately, too."

"You have spoken only over the phone since meeting with her the other day, Light-kun," L pointed out, digging through the bowl for his favorite flavor. Soft music began to fill the room as the movie's credits began to roll.

"Doesn't matter," Light retorted, "she can act over the phone too. She can make her voice sound like she's about to cry or something. I mean, I'm used to her tricks by now, but she can be pretty convincing."

"I never said that you could not date, Light-kun. You are free to take her out if she is so persistent about it."

"Yes, but you'll tag along and stare at us the whole time."

"Of course," L agreed, happily popping an elusive strawberry gummy into his mouth, "though I would have used more favorable wording."

"Hmm, there is one way to fix that third wheel problem..," Light lilted, eyes shining with inspiration. L didn't like that shine. He'd never seen his eyes shine that way until after they had met with Misa the other day – it was one of several odd minor changes he'd noticed in the boy's behavior since then – and even if it only accompanied perfectly innocent and friendly actions, he didn't trust it in the least.

"I will not remove the handcuffs for the sake of a date, if that is what you are suggesting," L grumbled, leaning forward to put the half-empty candy dish back on the table.

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of," the boy drawled, a mischievous grin slowly spreading across his face, "making it a _double_ date." L blinked, his face familiarly innocent and oblivious.

"I do not understand how bringing an additional couple along will alleviate the awkwardness of my presence."

"I _meant _we should bring along a date for _you_," Light huffed. "For a genius, you can be so dense..."

"Light-kun intends to set me up with a date?" L wondered, tilting his head to the side as his thumb found its way to his mouth.

"Sure, what are friends for?" Light said with a shrug. L chewed his worn thumbnail for a moment.

"...Light-kun considers me his friend?" he finally asked. Light openly stared at him, the blank look on his face almost mirroring L's own.

"Well, yes. I mean, you're a bit _weird_, but..," the teen stammered, dumbfounded, "I consider you a rather irreplaceable friend."

"But we constantly argue, and have gotten into a physical altercation..," L began to list. Light rolled his eyes.

"That's just part of it, Ryuuzaki," he explained. "It's a double-edged sword. When people are close enough to be friends, that usually means they're close enough to get on each other's nerves as well."

L continued to chew his thumbnail as the credits and their unobtrusive music came to an end. It was true that Light could get under his skin – he could frustrate, annoy, and even anger him with unbelievable ease – but at the same time, he could think and converse at L's own level. When he wasn't tearing away at his patience, he even found him to be quite enjoyable company. So, by the teen's own definition...

"Light-kun, then," the detective mused, dropping his thumb from his mouth, "is the first real friend I've ever had."

Light's eyes widened for a moment in disbelief, but then a small smile came upon his face.

"I guess that answers my next question, then. I was going to ask if you'd ever dated before," he said with a good-natured chuckle.

"Light-kun, I have been working as L for nearly ten years," L said quietly, disinterestedly watching a fast-food commercial on the television. "I have never had the time for such things."

"Oh," Light said, looking carefully over his enigmatic companion. Was there really that much of an age difference between them, he wondered? Just how young was he when he became L?

"If I were to agree to your proposal, Light-kun," L said suddenly, tearing his attention away from the television to face the boy again, "who would you set me up with?"

"Ah, well," Light pondered, lounging back against the couch and thoughtfully stroking his chin, "you wouldn't want your very first date to be with a complete stranger, right? So, I guess I'd pick Velma."

"...Velma?" Now it was L's turn to look dumbfounded.

"Yeah. She's the only unattached female here, after all, and you seem to know each other fairly well," Light reasoned. L noticed that grin of his starting to come back. "Besides, Ryuuzaki, I think she's got a thing for you."

Before L could open his mouth to ask what this alleged _thing_ was, a short, serious melody suddenly burst from the speakers. Both immediately turned their attention toward the television as the bright blue and yellow station logo flashed onto the screen, the words "Breaking News" emblazoned beneath it. An attractive young anchorwoman appeared a second later, furiously shuffling the papers in her hand.

"_This is NHN News, live with a breaking story out of Shinjuku."_

"Must be big if they're willing to interrupt the commercials," Light mumbled.

"_We have received word that, just minutes ago, a strange flying creature descended upon Shinjuku's skyscraper district, near the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Office towers."_

"What?!" both men cried, jumping to their feet.

"_Eyewitnesses are calling this creature a shinigami, and claim that it is the same monster that attacked two other areas of Tokyo just a few days ago. Several of the buildings in the area are reported to be on complete lock-down, and our own news crews are keeping a safe distance."_

"Another attack?" Light gasped. Footage from a news helicopter suddenly replaced the anchor; crowds ran through the streets, darting through the gridlocked traffic or retreating between the large buildings. The anchor's voice continued, drowning out the faint sounds of helicopter blades and screams.

"_This is live footage from our NHN News Chopper. You can see the panic that has broken out on the streets as hundreds of pedestrians, businessmen, and government workers try to escape the area. We've received reports that two locked-down skyscrapers have had their windows and doors broken into as the crowds desperately try to find refuge."_

L suddenly sprinted toward the monitor wall, tugging a surprised Light behind him. He urgently hit a few buttons on the far right side of the large desk, until some crackles of static sounded from the computer speakers. Shoving aside a small stack of papers, he grabbed the microphone.

"Everyone, come to the main room immediately!" he exclaimed, as close to shouting volume as Light had ever heard him. He hit a large red button on the desk, terminating the intercom, as the anchorwoman continued her report on the far left wall of the room.

"_The police have not released a statement about this incident, but they are urging thrill-seekers and other enthusiasts to stay away. There have already been several reports of deaths since this creature's appearance a few minutes ago – please, don't risk your life for a photo or video footage. The police are advising everyone in the skyscraper district of Shinjuku to remain indoors and away from first-floor windows. If you are outside, take shelter immediately."_

The two chained young men glanced back and forth between the television and each other. They were still in shock over what was happening, but it stopped neither genius from quickly analyzing the implications of this latest attack. Light gave a sad sort of smirk.

"Hate to say I told you so, Ryuuzaki..."

* * *

"It's just as Light-kun said!" Matsuda exclaimed with wide grin. "Kira was just taking a break after all!"

"It certainly looks that way," Daphne agreed.

"Then... my son is..," Chief Yagami stammered, the utter relief evident on his worn face. "Well, I'm not happy that more innocent lives have been lost, of course, but with this, the suspicion of my son should be cleared..."

Velma leaned against the back of a couch, silently taking in the excited words of her teammates. She glanced at L, sitting precariously on the edge of the coffee table, his still-chained suspect standing nearby, with the rest of the team seated on the couches around them. It was obvious just from the slow, pensive way he chewed his thumbnail and the anxious wiggling of his bare toes that he disagreed with the others' conclusions, but nevertheless he allowed them to have their say. It wouldn't matter in the end, she knew, because L would never say "white" so easily.

"It should be, yes," Aizawa said with a frown, "but that all depends on Ryuuzaki, doesn't it?"

L looked up, face as blank as ever, to meet the tall officer's accusing glare. The rest of the investigators seemed to be pushed the sidelines, forgotten onlookers to the stare-down between these two strong-willed men.

"The shinigami's returned, Ryuuzaki, and there are thirty people lying dead on the streets of Shinjuku to prove it," Aizawa declared. "So why are you still keeping Light captive like this? You yourself can testify that he had nothing to do with this attack, doesn't that tell you enough?"

"No," L retorted, his voice quiet but filled with an unquestionable finality. "All this tells me is that Light-kun has an accomplice on the outside."

"All it tells _me_ is that you're too stubborn to admit that your verdict of Light being Kira was wrong!" Aizawa shouted. "Something happens that contradicts your theories, so you just modify them to include an accomplice – and while we're wasting our time looking for this person, the _real_ Kira will keep on killing the innocent!"

"So that is what you really think, after all?" L asked softly. Before Aizawa could respond, L gracefully rose from his awkward perch, slowly leading Light away and out of earshot of the others.

He glanced around at the other investigators as they passed, their faces showing their silent agreement with Aizawa. Fred and Daphne exchanged knowing looks – they and Velma were the only ones present who knew of his suspicions about Misa Amane. Since no evidence against her had ever been found, he had neglected to inform the rest of them; they seemed upset enough about his continued pursuit of Light, and the idea of Misa's involvement was admittedly based on opinion alone.

Velma had said nothing since he had called everyone here, merely watching him. She must have come to the same conclusions as he had about this latest attack, but looked rather unhappy about it. Did she still protest his methods so much, or was she irritated that said methods had actually resulted in some new leads?

Or had she actually guessed what his next move would be, and was showing her disapproval in advance?

Of course, even where L could see this incident as a promising piece of evidence against Misa, it had been gained only through the deaths of thirty innocent citizens of Tokyo. Only eighteen of those had been heart attacks, and could thus be attributed to the shinigami. The rest were collateral damage – people who had been hit by cars or trampled by the panicked crowds amongst all the confusion.

The first lead they'd gained since Mystery Inc.'s arrival had also come at the cost of innocents – six people had been killed by the shinigami in Harajuku, just so that they might gain enough evidence to hold Light under surveillance. It hadn't been the end of the unjust deaths, and L knew that arresting Misa might not put a complete stop to it either. If Misa had been helping Light all along, if he had _needed_ an accomplice to be able to pull it off, then it only made sense that Misa would need to recruit more help to do it without Light. Perhaps that was the reason for the break between this attack and the last one.

If that was the case, though, this situation could become hopeless rather quickly. If Light was Kira, but Misa (perhaps with another accomplice) could pull off a shinigami attack without his involvement, did that mean that the power of Kira could be spread to others? Or, possibly, that the power had fully transferred from Light to Misa, so that his prime suspect was no longer Kira at all? Such a conclusion was rather extreme, but, if nothing else, it could provide some explanation of Light's subtle changes in personality since L had taken him into custody.

Yes, L could understand why Velma must have been looking at him that way, full of forlorn disgust, but understanding didn't help to ease the tight pain in his stomach when he saw such a look on her face.

He lightly shook his head, as if the small movement would clear his mind of such thoughts. Why was he worried over something like this? He had never been one to care about gaining approval from others; this case was not the first in which his methods were met with protest or moral outrage, but none of that mattered if they worked. And they _always_ worked, because L had never been wrong, and because he'd never left a case unsolved or rendered an incorrect verdict.

If only he could pull this off with a minimal amount of moral intervention from the task force, he knew that he could make Amane betray herself the way Light had.

"Light-kun," he whispered to the boy once they were far from the others.

"What is it?" he sighed in frustration. The corner of L's mouth twitched into an odd smirk.

"Call Amane. We will be embarking on a double date."

* * *

**A/N:** I have a disturbingly sadistic talent for taking cute chibi moments and turning them into angst, don't I? I've had the birthday idea in my head for quite a while, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to use it. Hopefully it's not too corny? I mean, whatever is in L and Velma's past, it couldn't be like "whee, we're best buds!" but it needed to be something meaningful enough to still affect both of them, even if they didn't necessarily consider each other_ real_ friends.. o.o;

Btw, I don't have a specific date in mind for Velma's birthday, but she's about 3-4 months older than L. No clue why, I just thought it might be an interesting reversal of the age stereotype..

I think both L and Light fangirls will be coming after me... L is completely dense and insensitive in this chapter. And Light, well... it was unintentional, but considering the parallelism of the first two scenes, it seems I've indirectly compared him to Daphne. XD

Also, just because this isn't a yaoi fic doesn't mean I can't insinuate that Light's a complete closet case... _You_ know what his last name spells backwards. :X

Random note.. I don't know if it's true in Japan, but every news network in the US has a special (and stupid-sounding) name for their news helicopter. Huzzah for the NHN News Chopper! XP

**Keep the reviews coming!** I have an action-packed chapter to write next, and I need the motivation! :D


	7. Night Moves

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Scooby-Doo, Death Note, or the songs I use. If I actually _did_ own all of that, this would be a movie with a weird soundtrack instead of a fanfiction with lyrics. And it would be epic indeed.

**A/N:** Ah, I'm so sorry for my insanely slow updating, but everyday life keeps getting in my way. I fail miserably when it comes to sticking to a schedule.. If I weren't so hell-bent on detail, this might have been done a lot sooner. x.X; Of course, there are several hints and clues to be found in those details.. if you squint... And yes, even in a humorous crossover, I fully intend to make you squint. Muahaha.

Btw, since last chapter, this story's topped 1,000 hits! Squee! :D

But anyway, you're here for Scooby antics and L x Velma vibes, right? So, onward!

* * *

**Chapter 7: Night Moves**

"Daph, how many times do I have to tell you that this isn't a real date?" Velma whined. Daphne, thoroughly unfazed, continued happily digging through her closet. Velma honestly didn't know if the redhead had managed to travel with all of those clothes, or if she'd somehow found time to go shopping since they'd arrived in Japan.

"And how many times do I have to tell _you_ that it doesn't matter?" Daphne countered, carefully examining a red dress she'd found. "Even if it's just for the sake of the investigation, it's still technically your first date, and there's no way I'm letting you go in that."

Velma took a moment to glance down at her outfit – the usual skirt and sweater – before Daphne tossed the red dress at her. The brunette turned it over in her hands; the fabric was rather nice, something like silk, but it had the lowest neckline she'd ever seen. She scrunched up her nose and draped it over the back of a nearby chair.

"There's nothing wrong with the way I dress," Velma mumbled. "Besides, I'd look terrible in this..."

"Would not!" Daphne said with a frown, briefly emerging from the closet to pluck the dress off the chair. "Red's a good color on you." She held it up against her friend to demonstrate. Velma sighed, fingering the deep V-cut neckline.

"The color is fine, but I'm more worried about accidentally flashing the entire restaurant," she grumbled. Daphne just giggled.

"I'll find something else," she consented, taking the dress back to the closet.

"I still don't see why you're so worked up over this," Velma huffed, watching as her friend pulled something even less tasteful from the oversized closet. "It's not as if he's going to dress up for this. We'll look ridiculously mismatched."

"Oh, come on, Velms," Daphne said encouragingly, shoving the latest dress back onto the rack. "You don't honestly think he's going to an expensive restaurant in a dirty old shirt and jeans?" Now it was Velma's turn to laugh.

"You really don't know L very well, do you?"

* * *

"You have _got_ to be kidding me..."

"It is a physical reality, Light-kun. I do not understand how it could be construed as 'kidding'."

"But, you, ah," Light stuttered, his hands dropping from the double doors of the closet, "you must have more than this!"

"In the event that I needed something specific, Watari could easily procure it for me," L reasoned. He sat hunched on the edge of their large bed, thumb resting on his lips as he curiously watched the teen before him. What had he really expected? L had rarely worked on a case in person – why should he have any formal clothing if no one would ever see it?

Light shuffled through the closet, shoving aside countless identical shirts and jeans, while L continued to amusedly watch. The boy seemed more appalled and shocked with each newly uncovered piece of apparel.

"Surely Light-kun did not assume that I wore the same set of clothing every day?" L asked innocently. Light turned around to face the eccentric detective, his face twisting into a disgusted look as his eyes settled on a rather large coffee stain on the front of his white shirt.

"Well, your clothes always seem to be dirty..." L's large eyes followed Light's to the stain.

"Holding things as I do involves a certain amount of risk," L said, emphatically lifting the hem of his shirt between two fingers. "Even a practiced hand such as mine will occasionally spill something."

"Why _do_ you hold things like that, anyway?" Light huffed, turning to dig through L's closet again.

"My deductive abilities drop by seven percent when foreign objects touch my palms."

"Should have known..."

"Is it really necessary for me to dress a certain way for this occasion, Light-kun?" L wondered, chewing on his thumbnail.

"You don't want to look like a hobo on your first date, Ryuuzaki," Light argued, kicking aside a discarded pair of jeans in the closet's floor. L paused in his chewing as his suspect stared quizzically at the single pair of worn tennis shoes he'd uncovered.

"...Light-kun thinks I dress like a homeless derelict?" L asked quietly. Turning to look at his insomniac roommate again, the teen suddenly burst into light-hearted laughter.

"Never mind, Ryuuzaki. You can just borrow some clothes, and _shoes_, from me." L blinked up at him, lightly pressing his teeth into the his thumb as Light rushed toward his own closet across the room. That devious look of his didn't sit well with the detective, but he had no time to dwell on it before the chain tugged him off the bed and forced him to follow.

* * *

"Quit picking at it, will you?"

"The collar is irritating my throat, Light-kun..," L whined, fiddling with the top button of the borrowed shirt.

"Just leave it alone. It'll look terrible unbuttoned," Light said with an exasperated sigh. He gave the detective one last look as the elevator came to a stop. L looked admittedly strange in Light's fitted clothing. The hem of the dress shirt constantly threatened to pop out of the neatly pressed slacks, ironically held in check by his bad posture. Light honestly hadn't realized how tall the older man really was until he'd tried to dress him; even this, the longest formal shirt he owned, would come completely un-tucked if L managed to stand up straight. Now, if only he'd been able to do something with that _hair_...

The door slid open to reveal the headquarters' underground garage. The Mystery Machine was parked nearby, with Fred and Shaggy leaning against it. Scooby, who was sitting beside them, perked up immediately when the two stepped out of the elevator.

"Roo's rere!" he barked happily, jumping to his feet and pointing a paw at the handcuffed pair. Fred and Shaggy, both dressed in basic black suits, waved.

"Hey, guys!" Light greeted them with a friendly wave. L started to follow suit, but only managed to lethargically raise his hand as his thumb was drawn almost magnetically toward his mouth. Seeing Shaggy in a suit (and Scooby wearing a fancy black leather collar, for that matter) was odd enough, but what were these two even _doing_ here?

As the two geniuses reached the others, Scooby sat and quirked his head to the left, staring at L as he finally noticed his outfit. L dropped the thumb from his mouth in favor of fidgeting with his stiff shirt collar. Light just looked back and forth between them and laughed.

"Not a half-bad look for him, eh Scooby-san?" Light teased, affectionately ruffling the fur between the dog's ears. "Now, if he'd only learn how to use a hairbrush..."

Light didn't seem to notice the collective stare he was now getting, but then, he hadn't seemed to realize the oddity of his increased friendliness over the last few days either.

"We're still waiting on the girls," Fred said, changing the subject before the confused silence could become too pronounced.

"Yes, about that..," L finally spoke up. "Why is it 'we'? The second party was only to consist of Daphne and yourself."

"Safety in numbers," Fred answered, shrugging his broad shoulders.

"And, like, a free gourmet meal, too," Shaggy added with a grin.

"Reah, ree real!" Scooby enthusiastically agreed, tail rapidly smacking the concrete.

"I see," L deadpanned. "If this case continues much longer, though, I fear you will bankrupt Watari."

"More importantly," Light interjected, "isn't your group supposed to be inconspicuous?"

"Light-kun does not view such a compromise in security as an asset to himself?" Light glared at the detective, sure, despite his better judgment, that L was attempting sarcasm.

"Of course not," the teen snapped. "I certainly don't like that you're using a date as an excuse to investigate some baseless hunch you have about Misa, but compromising your plans will do nothing to prove her innocence or mine. I might not approve of your methods, but the sooner you get it through your head that neither she nor I am involved with Kira or this shinigami business, the better."

"I could reach that conclusion much faster if Light-kun helped me to investigate her," L said, finally managing to slip the tiny collar button out of its hole and free his throat from the maddening constriction. "Light-kun is, after all, in a uniquely close position to Amane. I'm sure you could persuade her to tell you anything..."

"Ryuuzaki, that's..," Light began, eyes wide and indignant, "What you're suggesting, that's just despicable! It goes against my humanity!" Fred, Shaggy, and Scooby silently watched the exchange, the shock in their eyes seemingly agreeing with the young man's appalled reaction. L only sighed, and began to chew his thumb again.

"That's rather disappointing, but I suppose I must respect Light-kun's morals," L mumbled. Light scowled, but seemed content to take his minor victory and drop the subject. L turned to Fred and Shaggy.

"I trust you have the audio equipment ready?"

"Of course," Fred said, scrambling toward the back of the Mystery Machine and opening the left door. He pulled out a small box, closing the door again with his foot. Before Fred could speak, L dove one hand into the indistinguishable plastics in the box and pulled out a small clip-on microphone.

"You, Light-san, and Velma will each wear one of those," Fred explained, even as he realized that L already knew the ins and outs of this setup. The others casually listened as he pulled out a small earpiece and a cell-phone-sized digital recorder. "Daphne and I will be listening remotely through these, and I'll be recording everything."

"What about Shaggy-san and Scooby-san?" Light asked as the miniature devices were returned to the box.

"They'll basically be chowing down the entire time," Fred laughed, "but otherwise, they'll just be an extra set of eyes."

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the soft swoosh of the elevator doors opening behind them. All four men and the dog turned to watch, though they already knew who was in the dark carrier. Light playfully elbowed L's side, a sly grin creeping across his fair face.

"Nervous?" he whispered. L spared him an emotionless blink. What on earth was there to be nervous about? Such an observatory mission would be downright boring if not for the delectable pastries that the restaurant boasted, and even _if_ anything dangerous were to happen, they would have Fred's group as backup.

As the women emerged, however, their dresses shifting and waving around them, teased hair bouncing with every step, purses clutched in delicate hands, an unfamiliar knot of anxiety began to grow in the bottom of the detective's stomach. L was apparently not the only one plagued by an overly fashion-conscious companion. His hand crept up to lightly touch his shirt collar – perhaps he should refasten that troublesome button after all.

Daphne happily sauntered up to the group, her arm around Velma's shoulder, forcing her reluctant friend to mimic her pace.

"Sooo," the redhead baited with a wide grin, "what do you all think of the new Velma? I couldn't convince her to trade the glasses for contacts, but otherwise..."

L tuned out the approving nods and generic compliments of the others as he seriously assessed this alleged new version of his childhood companion. Her red dress was knee-length, and though it was form-fitting, it wasn't tight. The sleeves were long, but billowed out from her elbows to let the light cotton float around her wrists. The neckline was deep and square, not cut low enough to be indecent, but thoroughly showing off the pale throat and collarbone so often hidden by turtlenecks. A wide black belt accentuated the healthy curve of her waist, subtly drawing notice to a figure typically masked by bulky clothing. Short black heels adorned her rather small feet, and her nervous hands fidgeted with a matching purse. There wasn't much to be done with her short hair, but it had been teased up slightly. The thick glasses were the only aspect of her that remained seemingly unchanged. The splashing of freckles around her nose stood prominently out with the slight blush that had come to rest in her cheeks. L knew that she hated such attention, and wasn't surprised in the least when, upon Daphne releasing her, she retreated into the background like a frightened deer.

Having fished out all the compliments she could for her living work of art, Daphne had gone to Fred's side to show off her flowy, dark purple and lavender dress. It wasn't long before the blond brought the girl's mind back to business, and started explaining to his group the intricacies of their role in the plan.

Without really meaning to, Velma had ended up leaning against the Mystery Machine, looking like she was hiding behind L. He happened to be the one standing farthest from Daphne – that had been her only thought when she settled in that spot. She hadn't considered until now that she was placing herself in close vicinity of the one person who hadn't yet commented on her new look, and the only one whose opinion _mattered_, though she hated admitting that even to herself. Now that she was here, though, with the attention finally off of her, she didn't dare move. She saw Fred asking L and Light something, but her frazzled mind didn't catch what it was.

"We're meeting Misa in front of the restaurant," Light answered at last, as L didn't seem to want to waste his breath on logistics at the moment. He stood, hunched as ever, one hand deep in a pocket as he chewed the thumbnail of the other, the pinky and ring finger of said hand occasionally flicking at the open collar of his shirt.

Out of embarrassment for herself, Velma hadn't taken the time until now to notice his unusual outfit. The dress shirt was white, but the shine of the material gave it a silvery tint. Small, close buttons trailed down the front, which she amusedly thought must have given him a good deal of trouble. Those long, nimble fingers would be perfectly capable of working the tiny buttons, of course, but with the usual lack of care he gave to dressing himself, he must have been rather annoyed to have to fasten so many. The shirt was tucked into pressed black slacks, which had already acquired a few wrinkles. The thin, vertical silver stripes of the pants made a decent attempt to show off his long, muscular legs, but his bad posture was too much for them. Velma decided that he must have had to borrow his clothes as well – they were rather close-fitting, and she doubted he would ever purchase such garments himself. On closer inspection, they looked slightly too small for him as well; when he dropped his hand from its usual position at his mouth, the sleeve revealed his thin wrist.

If you could overlook that, she mused, he actually cleaned up nicely, even with the heavy bags still under his eyes and the wild black hair still untamed.

"Light-kun and Daphne, it seems, have a rather similar policy on evening wear," L said quietly, shaking Velma from her thoughts. She blushed again, realizing she'd been staring.

"Ah, so I was right," she quickly covered. "I was just thinking that you must have borrowed those clothes from him. I had to borrow Daphne's too..."

"Yours, at least, fit properly," L said. He glancing quickly to Light to make sure he wasn't listening, but the teen was now safely embroiled in conversation with Fred and the others. Velma stifled a laugh.

"It looks fine," she assured him. He tilted his head to the side for a moment before raising his hand back up to fidget with the top button again.

"It feels ridiculous," he muttered, unsuccessfully trying to button the collar. Velma lightly batted his hand away.

"Leave it," she said with a smirk. "Just because you're borrowing his clothes doesn't mean you have to be stiff and straight-laced like him."

L went back to chewing his thumb, seeming as unaffected as ever, but even under the garage's harsh fluorescents, Velma found a hint of laughter in those deep black eyes.

"Well, like, since the gang's all here," Shaggy said suddenly, loud enough for the two unsocial detectives to hear, "let's go! Scoob and me are, like, _starvin'_, man!"

* * *

"I still don't see why you couldn't pick Misa up in the nice limo!"

"It's Ryuuga's car, Misa. If not for the chain, I wouldn't have ridden in the 'nice limo' either..."

"Hideki Ryuuga, party of four," L grumbled to the hostess, ignoring the inane chatter of his suspect and the blonde girl inseparably attached to his arm.

"Oh, um," the woman stuttered, pausing for a moment to stare as she picked up their menus. It was difficult to tell whether she was confused over the name or wondering about the chain dangling between "Ryuuga" and the teenage boy at his side. L, however, didn't give her a chance to elaborate.

"The similarity of my name to that of the famous pop idol is merely coincidence," he explained, blinking in a way that might signify irritation or boredom, depending on how well the observer was acquainted with him. Velma smiled; she knew he must have had a good reason for choosing such a name early on, but it now seemed more of an inconvenience.

"Oh, of course," the hostess covered, pushing a loose strand of black hair out of her face as she tried to hide her faux-pas. The restaurant was somewhat exclusive and small; a single look around at the fake grape vines and local artists' paintings on the walls was enough to confirm its high price range. Velma thought it wouldn't have been a surprise to find the _real_ Hideki Ryuuga in such a place.

The hostess grabbed several sets of silverware and led them to their table, a short distance from the bead-curtained hallway that led to the restrooms. Glancing around the restaurant, Velma spotted Fred and Daphne on the other side of the small dining room, nearer to the kitchen. They had left several minutes before her own party, taking, upon L's insistence, one of the garage's many unmarked black Mercedes instead of the Mystery Machine. Shaggy and Scooby sat nervously beside the couple, obviously trying to keep to their best behavior. Velma was amazed that they'd even let Scooby in, but then, Shaggy had claimed him to be a service dog on several occasions. She estimated that the restaurant held only about thirty tables in all, so even though the place was rather full, it shouldn't be too difficult for her friends to carry out their part of the plan or provide quick backup in case anything unexpected should happen.

"Here we are!" the hostess said cheerily, possibly trying to make up for her rudeness moments ago. She spread the menus and silverware on the round table as Light and L slid toward the middle of the semi-circular bench seat. After several days of being chained together, the two of them moved in time with surprising grace. Once they were settled in, the women sat on the ends beside their respective dates. The hostess rushed off, calling over a short, plump waitress to take their drink orders.

"Hi there, how are you all doing tonight?" the waitress asked, pulling out a notepad and pen from her apron pocket. The brunette was obviously a foreigner, speaking slowly and carefully with a noticeable American accent.

"Great!" Misa exclaimed, hugging Light's left arm. The waitress smiled at the hyperactive actress, looking expectantly toward the quieter members of the table.

"I'll have hot tea," Light said impatiently, perusing the menu and not sparing the waitress a single glance.

"Oh, all right," she said, quickly scribbling his order before looking back to Misa. "And you, miss?"

"Just water, and.. Oh, I think we should share a bottle of wine, Light-kun!" she cried, looking pleadingly up at her date. The waitress gave the blonde a puzzled look.

"Ah, forgive me, miss, but are the two of you old enough to drink?" she asked softly.

"They can have whatever they like," L said suddenly, eyes wide as he slid a bill across the table. The waitress' eyes lit up. She slipped the bribe into her pocket with all the subtlety her stubby fingers could muster.

"Yes sir," she said, returning to her notepad. "I'll have a bottle of our finest brought out immediately. And what for you?"

"Tea," he replied simply, his thumb drifting up to rest on his bottom lip. The waitress recorded this and looked expectantly towards Velma.

"A coke for me," she ordered, glancing back momentarily at the now silent detective with a sly smile, "and bring extra sugar for his tea."

"Sure thing," the waitress said, grinning as she stuffed her notepad back into her apron pocket. She kept her hand there for an extra moment, probably fingering the bill she'd hidden there.

"A _lot_ of extra sugar," Velma insisted.

"Right," she agreed, though Velma knew she hadn't taken the advice seriously. "Okay, guys, I'll be right back with your drinks. My name's Emma, so just let me know if you need anything else, okay?" The waitress shuffled off toward the kitchen, probably not expecting to receive a reply from the largely quiet table anyway. Misa started giggling.

"Velma-chan and Ryuuga-kun are such a cute couple!" she exclaimed. "And they even know each others' drink orders!"

"Anyone who's ever _met_ Ryuuga could tell you that he takes extra sugar," Light said, patting the girl's hand. Velma decided that it was probably more out of a desire to hush her than to show affection. Bringing her menu up in front of her to block herself from Light and Misa's view, she ran her fingers along her chest, an inch or two below the neckline, making sure the tiny wireless microphone was still safely in place. She looked to L, who was still watching Light and Misa's interaction.

"What's with the alcohol?" Velma whispered to him in slightly accented French. He glanced sidelong at her and brought up his own menu.

"The girl is... lacking in intelligence, and with a drink or two in her, may let something slip," he returned, the soft syllables falling fluidly from his mouth, despite the whispering volume. Velma briefly wondered if this was merely due to his great skill with languages, or if the romantic tongue was native to him.

As if to confirm L's assessment of her brain power, the blonde began to giggle again across the table, muttering to her date something about a secret love language. The teen just grunted in response, as the waitress could be seen coming towards them again, juggling a platter of drinks.

"Here you are," she said cheerily, passing the men china cups and individual pitchers of hot tea and the women their cold drinks. She took the two wine glasses from the platter and turned to Light and Misa. "Would you like me to serve the wine now, or wait until your food is ready?"

"I think we'll..."

"Now, please!" Misa enthusiastically cut in, leaving her date rolling his eyes in annoyance. The waitress obeyed, passing them the glasses. Taking hold of the wine bottle, she tucked the now-empty tray beneath her arm and popped the cork. Misa grinned and looked to be silently cheering as the red liquid was poured generously into their glasses.

L sighed. Even if it won him some new leads in the case, this evening could be quite an ordeal with a drunk Misa to deal with.

"All right, are you all ready to order, or do you need another few minutes?" Emma asked, setting the open wine bottle on the table.

"I have decided," L said. He paused to glance at Velma, thumb thoughtfully resting at his mouth. "But I believe it is customary that I allow my date to order first." The brunette blinked at him, unsure if her surprise was more due to his sudden onset of manners or the fact that he'd managed to read through the menu during their short conversation moments ago.

"We'll take another minute to look over the menu, thanks," Light said, sending the waitress on her way. He pinched the bridge of his nose once she was gone, staring at the untouched glass in front of him for a moment. L chewed his thumb, watching his suspect's behavior, as Velma perused her menu.

The enigmatic Ryuuga's brief instance of attentiveness towards Velma, though, was not to be forgotten by Misa.

"So _cute_!" the model gushed, finally detaching herself from Light to take a large gulp of her wine. The puzzled look on L's face at her comment only made her grin wider.

* * *

"The first chance we've had for a date in _weeks_, and we're stuck listening in on someone else's," Daphne complained, adjusting the small earpiece hidden beneath her hair for the umpteenth time that evening.

"I don't understand how Ryuuza... er, Ryuuga suspects this girl," Fred mused, dousing his next bite of steak in sauce. "She just sounds like a typical teenager to me."

"And Light's one of Japan's top students, Freddie, but that doesn't matter either," the redhead reasoned, taking a bite of her salad. "Either Ryuuga's completely off-base, or they're _both_ talented actors."

"This is getting us nowhere," Fred said as Misa's inane giggling erupted in his ear again. "All she's doing is gushing about love at first sight, and how _romantic_ it was on the night they met..."

"And Ryuuga's doing nothing but munching cake. They're supposed to be on a date, but all they've done is randomly whisper some French now and then..."

"Talking about the case, probably," Fred muttered, talking around his food.

"That's my point – nothing's even _happening_, and they still don't care about anything but the case. I think Ryuuga's actually talked more to Misa and Light than to Velma this whole time."

"Isn't, like, the point of this whole thing to get info out of them?" Shaggy asked, forlornly twirling his fork around on his empty plate.

"Well, _yeah_, but still... It's supposed to be a date, not a police interrogation."

"Daph, how many times have I told you to stay out of other people's love lives?" Fred chided. Scooby nodded in agreement, having nothing better to do than listen in since he'd finished all of his dinner as well.

"I'll admit my matchmaking ventures don't always work," Daphne grumbled, "but this is _different_. Velma would never come out of her shell without a push, and God knows Ryuuga can use all the help he can get with social situations. Besides, I still think there's something Velma's not telling me..."

"You're not necessarily entitled to know," Fred pointed out. "Where they're from, almost everything about their lives is kept secret. It's in their nature to be that way."

"But it isn't just a matter of security, Freddie! I think there's really something more than friendship between them – otherwise why would she still be so reluctant and embarrassed to talk about him?"

With the couple still engaged in their argument over setting up Velma and L, Shaggy leaned down to whisper something to Scooby. The dog's tongue shot out, his tail flopping rapidly against his seat, as he vehemently nodded in agreement. Fred and Daphne didn't notice their activity until they stood from the table and began to slink away. They looked up at their friends with suspicious eyes.

"Just, like, getting some fresh air," Shaggy said innocently. Fred sighed, already forming a good idea of where they were really going, but waved them along. Daphne chuckled as the two happily skipped off toward the restaurant's entrance, not surprised in the least when they turned at the last second towards the unguarded kitchen door.

"Never put it past those two," Fred muttered, taking another large bite of his steak as a strange tune began to play over the dining room speakers.

"Yeah... Oh!" Daphne suddenly perked up, instinctively pressing against her earpiece as she tried to subtly look across the dining room to their friends' table. Misa had jumped to her feet, manically wiping her hands on her skirt. "Trouble in paradise!"

"So I heard," Fred grumbled, pulling the shrieking speaker out of his ear.

"Too bad, it's such a nice outfit..," Daphne mumbled. Fred shot her an amused look.

"What?" the redhead defended. "Just because she's a suspect, I can't appreciate her sense of style?"

"Light's pretty stylish too, come to think of it," Fred mused, replacing his earpiece.

"I've noticed that, too," Daphne said softly, repressing a laugh. Fred looked confused for a moment, then apparently dismissed her comment as he continued to listen in to the other table.

"She's going to the bathroom. You'd better follow her," he suggested. The model was already stalking angrily toward the beaded curtain that hid the restrooms from view.

"I'm on it," Daphne agreed, hopping up from her seat and heading across the dining room.

* * *

"Next thing I know, he's blabbing out his whole life story to me!" Misa exclaimed, taking another sip of wine.

"And somehow, that turned into making out," Light garbled around a bite of his lamb dish. Swallowing, he continued, "I don't even remember the rest of that night..."

"You were kinda drunk then too," Misa pointed out as Light burst out in girlish, alcohol-induced giggles. Velma silently stared at them, her food forgotten. L was deceptively buried in his smörgåsbord of sweets – large slices of strawberry vosgein, Napoleon cake, and fruit Paris Brest, four Savarin Chantillies, two chocolate Savoyards, three brioche aux sucre, and several strawberry tarts and Kirsch puffs – but was, in reality, paying very close attention to the admissions of the tipsy couple.

"Alcohol causes Light-kun to become unusually talkative, it seems," L observed between bites of cake.

"No kidding," Velma muttered in agreement, idly watching her date stuff another forkful of sponge cake, Bavarian cream, and strawberry into his mouth. His wide eyes were glued to the younger couple as Misa divided the last of the wine between their glasses.

As Light and Misa rambled on with their tale of the night they'd met, Velma poked at her half-eaten pasta with her fork. Something about the combined smells of sugar and fruits from L's many plates, the alcohol flowing across the table, and Light's savory, spicy lamb made her own dish seem rather unappetizing. She was thankful that the blonde model in front of her had ordered a simple salad with no distinguishing odor of its own.

"Velma, is your meal not satisfactory?" L asked in soft French. Velma jumped, blushing slightly, as she hadn't realized he'd been paying the least bit of attention to her. "If so, feel free to order something else. I can call that Emma person over again..."

"No, no, it's fine, really," she assured him. She couldn't help noticing again how much better his grasp on the language was than her own. "I'm just... done with dinner, I guess."

"Ah, I see," he pronounced, seeming to study her as his thumb momentarily replaced the fork at his mouth. She gave him a shy half-grin, unsure now of just how to react to the emotionless detective's sudden concern. She sighed in relief when his eyes left her to settle on his last strawberry tart, only to be surprised yet again as he passed the treat her way.

"In that case, have some dessert," he suggested, lips quirking up into some semblance of a smile. Velma blinked at him for a moment before accepting the tart.

"Thanks," she said quietly. Seeming satisfied by this, the genius returned to his veritable buffet of pastries and cakes without another word. Velma inwardly smiled as she began to nibble at the small gift. L's random instances of child-like logic never failed to amaze her.

Light and Misa were still cackling and carrying on, the petite blonde hanging all over her increasingly affectionate boyfriend, as an eerie, mysterious melody replaced the quieter soothing tones playing over the restaurant's speakers. The change caught the nearly drunk Light by surprise, sending the forkful of gravy-doused lamb he was holding straight into his date's lap.

"Ah, Light-kun!" she shrieked, leaping out of the booth with unusual skill, even though her legs had become noticeably wobbly under the wine's influence. "Look what you've done!"

"Sorry, Misa-chan..," Light slurred. Velma tried not to laugh.

_When I look into your eyes_

_It comes as no surprise..._

"I have to go wash this out," she huffed. "Oh, this had better not stain!" L subtly turned to look toward their comrades' table as the model stalked away on unstable legs toward the restrooms. Seeing Daphne get up to follow Misa, he calmly returned to his sweets.

_You're slipping away_

_Angel, you're the love of my life..._

Velma sat back in her seat, wondering what this strange song was. Not only did it sound creepy and include vocals, whereas all the other music played since they'd arrived had provided only the barest instrumental background noise, but there were intermittent banging noises between the lyrics as well.

_It's so cold at night..._

The banging only became louder, and L and Light now seemed to notice it as well.

_I'm beggin' you to stay..._

Suddenly, the sound of pans crashing could be heard, and it became obvious to everyone that the clatter wasn't part of the song. A loud yelp from the kitchen drew the entire restaurant's attention.

_I know it's all a masquerade..._

The double doors of the kitchen swung open, and a frenzied Shaggy and Scooby ran into the dining room, yelling incoherently as they rushed toward Fred.

_I know you're not afraid..._

A huge black form emerged from the kitchen, and the dining room erupted in panicked screams.

* * *

"Like, wasn't this was a great idea, Scoob?" Shaggy whispered to his partner-in-crime as he popped a puffy day-old pastry into his mouth.

"Reah," Scooby agreed, gulping down a few slices of honeyed bread. The nearly empty kitchen seemed almost bigger than the crowded dining room had been, and the lone chef on the far side of it was too busy to notice the sneaky gluttons in the back chowing down on yesterday's leftover baked goods. There was no harm in it, Shaggy had insisted, since these would just be thrown out rather than served to the restaurant's wealthy clientèle.

Suddenly, a grating noise from the back door turned the chef's attention their way, and the two quickly dove under a counter to avoid being found out.

"Who in the world..," the fat chef muttered to himself, quickly toweling his hands as he headed to the door. The noise continued unabated, the knob shaking and jerking about as whoever was in the back alley tried to force their way in. Scooby whimpered, and Shaggy quickly clamped his hand around his muzzle to shush him. Pieces of paint started falling off the door from the repeated impacts of whatever it was on the other side. Just as the chef reached out to turn the knob, the door burst off its hinges and knocked him to the ground.

"Zoinks!" Shaggy yelped as he and Scooby fell out from under the counter in a tangled heap. A seven-foot, black and blue winged creature grinned deviously at them from the doorway.

"Rikes!" Scooby cried, trying to untangle himself and run away, only to trip and knock over a rack of drying pots and pans.

"Sh-sh-shinigami!" Shaggy stuttered, pulling himself up off the ground as the monster came slowly and confidently toward the bumbling cowards. "Run, Scoob!"

The chef, crawling out from under the fallen door, screamed as he finally got a good look at the intruder. Shaggy and Scooby were already being chased towards the doors, though, with the shinigami having apparently forgotten all about the frightened chef.

The two scaredy-cats burst out of the double doors into the dining room, adding their screams to the din of conversation and strange music, rushing as quickly as they could between tables and around startled waitresses to alert Fred.

_I know you're not afraid..._

The shinigami appeared mere moments after, sending the diners into a terrified hysteria. The monster roared, wings shaking with the sound, still making its way toward Shaggy and Scooby despite the commotion all around.

_You're just what I've been looking for..._

"Fred, where's Daphne?" Shaggy demanded of his friend. The shinigami steadily approached, kicking aside the spilled food and fallen chairs in his way.

_No other boy can love you more..._

"Bathroom," Fred replied, hopping to his feet as he pulled a rubber mask from beneath his suit jacket. Shaggy, having forgotten all about the masks in his panic, pulled his out as well.

_You're the only girl I adore..._

Fred grabbed the purse Daphne had left at the table as he, Shaggy, and Scooby ran across the dining room, weaving between tables, chairs, and scared patrons.

_You're just what I've been looking for..._

Velma, L, and Light had immediately pulled out their hidden masks when they saw the shinigami emerge from the kitchen – L and Light from under their clothes, Velma from within her small purse. People all around them were either huddling under their tables or knocking them over as they herded each other towards the front door. The three couldn't do much more than brace themselves against the panicked crowd, lest they be knocked down and trampled.

_Time will mend your broken heart_

_Just don't fall apart..._

"It's following them specifically..," L observed as their friends ran up to them, his voice oddly calm and rational despite the chaos.

_The truth will hold inside..._

"Like, we gotta get outta here!" Shaggy cried. Screams erupted from across the dining room as two people who'd been seated near the kitchen suddenly collapsed.

_Angel, I don't want to let you go..._

"Daphne's mask is in here!" Fred argued, holding up the girl's purse. "We have to wait for her!"

_I don't want to let them know_

_The pain you have to hide..._

With the shinigami now fast approaching, the masked detectives moved as a group towards the back, struggling head-on through the remaining groups of diners and kicking over tables and chairs behind them to impede the beast. Before they could reach the restrooms, however, Daphne suddenly burst out and ran straight into them.

_I know it's all a big charade..._

They all ducked behind or under tables, pulling the shocked Daphne down with them, and began crawling along the floor, hoping that all the debris would keep them out of their pursuer's view. The shinigami roared again, leaping over the obstacles in its way as Fred shoved Daphne's purse at her.

_I know you're not afraid..._

"What about Misa?" Light demanded, speaking more clearly now as adrenaline won out over alcohol.

"She's..," Daphne started to say as she pulled her mask on.

"She'll be fine," L said, cutting her off. "The shinigami, it seems, is actually after _us_. If we leave, she can safely escape."

_You're just what I've been looking for..._

"Like I said, man," Shaggy said, crawling with Scooby at the head of the group, "let's get..."

_No other boy can love you more..._

With a growl and a crash, the table beside Shaggy was thrown aside, leaving him staring directly into the shinigami's morbid, clownish grin.

"Out... of... here..," he gulped.

_You're the only girl I adore..._

"Hyuk, hyuk..," the creature laughed.

"Rikes!" Scooby cried as the two leapt up and ran for the door.

_You're just what I've been looking for..._

The rest of the group followed suit, running past food, chairs, tables, and the occasional fallen bystander as they sprinted towards the exit, the shinigami on their tail.

_Just what I'm looking for..._

Suddenly, Velma tripped over a chair leg and fell to the ground, the impact knocking off her mask and glasses. The monster was upon her in an instant, rolling her onto her back with a rough shove and laughing maliciously as she tried to hide her face behind her arms.

_Just what I'm looking for..._

"Velma!" L shouted, yanking Light along as he ran back toward her. She screamed as the shinigami's claws scratched at her arms.

_You're just what I've been looking for..._

L spun on one foot, landing the other expertly in the shinigami's face. Though it didn't seem to hurt the creature, it forced him back and distracted him long enough for the detective to deliver another, more powerful kick into its chest. This time, the shinigami actually stumbled backwards, getting itself briefly stuck as its long wings tangled in the fallen chairs and tables.

_No other boy will love you more..._

"Come on," L said, helping Velma to her feet.

_You're the only girl I adore..._

"My glasses," she protested, "I can't see without my glasses!" Light, seeming almost sober by this point, quickly gathered up her glasses and mask, helping her to put them back on as L pulled them both toward the door.

_You're just what I've been looking for..._

With the shinigami still distracted, the group managed to finally escape the restaurant. They ducked down an alley, huddling behind a dumpster.

"Are you all right?" L asked softly, his unchained arm still wrapped supportively around Velma's shoulders.

"It's... it's not bad," she said, panting heavily as she nursed the long scratches on her right forearm. The left had some minor ones as well, but only those on the right bled. Shaggy and Scooby glanced nervously past the dumpster, watching for the shinigami. Police sirens could be heard closing in on the restaurant.

"L," Daphne said suddenly, "I have to tell you... I saw a clue." L perked up, his dark eyes widening invisibly beneath his grimly cartoonish rubber mask. To forgo his cautionary alias, he knew it must have been something important.

"Run!" Shaggy shouted before she could elaborate, taking off down the alley with Scooby at his side. The others unquestioningly followed, the whooshing wing-beats above them proof enough to make them comply.

The swift cowards at the head of the group pulled ever further from the rest, until the others completely lost sight of them. As the alley split, they could only guess which direction Shaggy and Scooby had taken. Fred and Daphne, in the lead, headed left, with the slower group of L, Velma, and Light following some steps behind, the flying shinigami closing fast behind them.

"Damn it!" Light exclaimed. "It's a dead end!"

As they reached the high brick wall, the end of the alley, the shinigami picked up speed, catching up and hovering above them. Before they could even attempt to fight back, it swooped down on them, laughing manically as it latched onto Daphne's arm and lifted her into the air.

"Freddie!" she screamed against the monster's hyuks as its black wings carried her both high above the alley.

"Daphne!" Fred cried, arms flailing out as if he might somehow still reach her. Her name echoed off the brick, the only sound left as the shinigami and its captive disappeared into the night sky.

* * *

**A/N:** The chase song is "Angela's Theme" from the movie _Sleepaway Camp_, a campy 80's cult classic. It's played at the (very effed-up) end of the movie – and the lyrics are every bit as ridiculous and out-of-place as any good Scooby chase music. It's easy to find on youtube if you want to hear it... XP

I will have you know, dear readers, that I stayed up until 5am last night (this morning?) to finish writing this chapter... and tonight, at 2am, have finally finished editing/polishing it. I hope it doesn't show_ too_ much..? o.o;

**About the Names:** Lots of people have been confused over this, so I'll try to explain it again... All of Mystery Inc.'s names are aliases in this story, even though they're understood to be real names in Scooby-Doo. Think of it this way: in this universe, they are celebrities, and just like actors or singers, they have "stage" names. Before Mystery Inc. was formed, Fred Jones could have been called Jiffy Cornshucker for all I know, but he changed his name before he became famous, so that's the only name we know him by. We, the public, aren't even _aware_ that it's an alias, and just assume it to be his real name.

The only difference is that they have fake names to protect their identities, not just to have cooler-sounding names like other celebrities do. Velma, of course, is a Wammy-given alias. She just made up a fake last name to go with it. The others in Mystery Inc. weren't necessarily told the details about Wammy's when the group was formed, but they know that her name is fake. She probably encouraged them to take on aliases as well, knowing that having a connection with L might present certain risks to all of them. Hence, by the time their group started to gain fame, they were already going by these aliases, and there was no reason for anyone to question their names...

Sorry if I didn't explain my roundabout logic very well back in chapter 2... I hope this clears things up?

**Pimpage:** I wrote another oneshot during the ungodly long chapter break... It's called Potassium, and focuses on Near and Matt. It's rather short, but I'll love you dearly if you read it! :D

...Holy fish sticks, I think I'll crawl into bed and die now. x.X; **Review, please? :D**


	8. Bad Vibes

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but this ridiculous plotline and the generous "tip" L gave me last chapter – what can I say, I wanted to see Light drunk too! XD

**Warning:** The rating has been raised from K+ to T, because there's going to be more language and some slightly darker themes in the next few chapters. Nothing too major, just being safe.

**A/N:** Oi, I know, I suck at keeping schedules... I wanted to get this done before classes started, but all sorts of problems with my registration and financial aid kept cropping up, and now classes are in full swing already. x.X;

This is the last of the second mini arc – the halfway point of the story! It also means I'll be taking a short hiatus. I have some other projects in the works, and more planning to do before I start chapter 9. And college does take precedent over fanfiction, obviously. But please bear with me, because the second half of the story will bring more action than the first! :D

* * *

**Chapter 8: Bad Vibes**

"Police still have given no official statement on the cause of these incidents. It stands to wonder if they're actually investigating them at all–"

"...is madness! I'm afraid to even let my kids walk to school these days–"

"Kira kills _criminals_. If he's behind these attacks, they can't possibly be random! There must be some reason–"

"The names of the four people killed in this latest attack have not yet been released–"

"Lord Kira, give me your words. Without Kira's direction–"

"...suggesting that the police have aligned themselves with Kira? That they're just allowing this to hap–"

"A memorial for the victims of yesterday's attack in Shinjuku will be held at–"

"Lord Kira, spare us!"

The screen went black, dousing the room in a gloomy silence again. Fred half-heartedly tossed the remote toward the coffee table. It instead struck the table's corner and fell to the floor, but he only stared blankly at it, making no move to pick it up.

Shaggy and Scooby watched from a nearby couch, but continued to sit quietly, having long ago run out of things to say to their friend. The usually strong and optimistic blond had said hardly a word since they'd returned to headquarters. In all the years their group had been together, the two had never seen Fred like this – but then, none of the dangerous situations that Daphne had gotten herself into in the past had ever been so serious.

Shaggy briefly glanced behind him toward the large desk where L and Light were working. The silence between them, though, seemed more out of anger than worry.

This, he decided, must be the reason L had never worked so directly on a case before. When Mystery Inc. first collaborated with him on a complex drug smuggling case, he'd still remained behind the scenes. They had gone into the field, gathering the evidence first-hand and at their own risk, while L had only met with them in his hotel room to discuss their progress and lend his opinion. Now that he thought about it, Shaggy supposed they had been fortunate to come away unscathed – perhaps they had all been a bit naïve in thinking they could be so lucky again. Hadn't Velma realized the danger when she so readily agreeing to working with L again?

Of course, how could she have refused? All Shaggy really knew about Wammy's House, the place where Velma grew up, was that all the genius kids there had aliases (and plenty of quirks, from what he'd seen when they dropped off Scrappy). One thing was certain about it, though – the place centered around L. He didn't know why or how it had happened, but L was the ultimate authority there, an infallible idol. Even Velma seemed to carry a bit of this attitude, despite growing up with him.

He was supposed to have been her friend, too, he pondered. Friendship had always been held in high esteem by the members of Mystery Inc. None of them ever hesitated to help a friend in need, and maybe that was part of the reason Velma agreed to join this investigation. However, L seemed to be proving less and less of a friend every day.

Scooby whimpered beside him, snapping Shaggy's attention back to the present. He flashed his old buddy a reassuring smile and scratched behind his ear. The dog laid his head on Shaggy's leg, sighing. It seemed he was at a loss for what to do as well. Dealing with serious situations like these had never been the duo's strong point.

If this was what it was like to solve real murder cases, Shaggy sincerely wished they could just go back to chasing harmless crooks and robbers in monster costumes.

* * *

L stared with dead eyes at the monitors before him, the numbers and colored lines of the charts beginning to blur together in his wide vision. Light sat at his right, as always, trying to hide his fatigue behind a seemingly casual wiping of his eyes. L knew the rest of the team was tired as well, but stubbornly refused to retire for the night.

Black eyes blinked heavily, glancing briefly down to one of the smaller monitors, which showed security footage of the hallway outside the main room's doors. Chief Yagami and the others would be returning from the scene shortly – perhaps then the sleep-deprived detectives would rest, himself excluded, of course.

L gingerly took up his tea cup in two fingers and brought the hot, sweet liquid to his lips. He sighed silently into the shallow china as his gaze was caught again by the figures on one of the side screens: the timing of Kira's daily judgments.

The kidnapping was not the only disturbing change in Kira's behavior. Not only did this latest attack seem to specifically target them – their cover must have been blown, probably during their outing in Harajuku – but it seemed to have been unplanned. Around the times of the other attacks, the killing of criminals had increased. This was no coincidence; it only happened during the typical noon attacks. Today, there had been no such activity in the afternoon, and no fluctuations to coincide with the abnormal attack at the restaurant either.

If not for the inarguable fact that four people had fallen dead from cardiac arrest, he might have concluded that this attack had not been orchestrated by Kira at all, but some impostor or fanatical worshiper acting as a copycat.

The notion of a second Kira had also been brought up before, and, as frightening an idea as it was, L could no longer dismiss the possibility.

The entire shinigami act had been out of character for Kira from the beginning, after all, but this conclusion only raised further questions. If the costumed perpetrator was indeed a second Kira, why did the real Kira allow it – or was he supporting their actions, even though they seemed to go against his twisted moral code? Was his fatal enforcement of justice merely a front for his true motives?

As his fingers began to ache, L finally snapped away from the hypnotizing glow of the screen and put his forgotten cup back down on the desk. Light spared his enigmatic captor only a brief glance; L's odd behavior must have seemed rather commonplace to the teen by now.

L sat still again, hands fidgeting with the loose denim around his bent-up knees, wide eyes watching nothing at all. It simply made no sense – if a second person _was _behind the shinigami get-up, who could it possibly be?

The date idea had backfired in more ways than one, he smugly thought. Not only had it brought disaster upon the team itself, but Light's one possible accomplice, Misa, had been cleared, while the circumstantial evidence that the Harajuku incident had provided on him had been entirely negated. Light couldn't have possibly been involved in either the restaurant or Shinjuku attacks, and, according to Shaggy and Scooby's testimonies, the shinigami was already breaking into the kitchen by the time Misa left for the bathroom. Though no witnesses could attest to her staying there the entire time, they'd found her afterwards still hiding in a stall in the windowless restroom. She would have had no time to go out the front or kitchen door and return before they'd come back to the restaurant themselves to find her.

Could they both really be innocent after all? Had his own stubborn childishness led L, for the first time, to make the wrong judgment on a case?

L was startled out of his thoughts as his cell phone buzzed to life, noisily shuddering along the desk until his long fingers took hold of the offensive device. He'd asked Watari to call him privately so as to avoid alarming the others, but Fred, Shaggy, and Scooby's eyes all shot immediately to him as he delicately held the phone to his ear. Light subtly leaned over, obviously attempting to listen.

"Ryuuzaki," his old patron's voice began, "Miss Daphne's clothes and belongings have been recovered."

"Did they find her?" Fred anxiously asked, spinning to face Light and L – his first time moving or speaking so much since planting himself on the couch hours ago.

"We tracked down her cell phone by its GPS locater," Watari continued, "and eventually found it, and the rest of her things, abandoned in a box on a store's roof, about two blocks from the restaurant."

"Just two blocks?" L quietly clarified.

"Yes. We're still combing over the area now. I'll return within the next two hours to give you all of the finer details."

"I see," L sighed. "Thank you, Watari." He closed the phone softly, placing it back on the desk as his eyes began to defocus with thought again. Since the creature could fly, dumping the potentially traceable belongings on a rooftop seemed natural, but why risk being seen by doing it so close to the crime scene? Why not a mile or more away, instead of only two blocks? Was it trying not to give them any clues about the direction of its destination?

Or was there a limit to the shinigami's wings?

"Ryuuzaki, tell us what's happening already!" Light shouted indignantly. L turned and blinked up at the teen – he must have been inadvertently tuning him out again. Before he could open his mouth to answer, though, a movement caught his eye. He casually pointed to the screen that had grabbed his attention, the one displaying security footage of the hall.

"Your father and the others have arrived, Light-kun," he calmly reasoned. "Should I not wait for them?"

Light scowled, but sat quietly even as the present members of Mystery Inc. remained on edge. The double doors swung heavily open a moment later, heralding the official return of Chief Yagami, Aizawa, Mogi, and Matsuda to the gloomy investigation room. The first two seemed rather subdued as they entered, and Mogi headed for the large table to get back to work, but Matsuda practically bounced through the door.

"We found something!" he cheered, realizing too late how booming his voice sounded in the quiet room. A quick scowl from Aizawa reminded him of the severity of the situation before he could get too carried away.

"What is it?" Fred demanded, standing from his seat.

"This," the chief answered for him, holding up a small zip lock bag. Inside was a piece of shiny metal smeared with black paint.

"Like, what is that thing?" Shaggy asked, facing them from a backwards position on the couch as Fred approached the officers for a better look.

"Some sort of broken valve. We found it inside the restaurant along with a couple more of those costume feathers. I thought it best to get L's opinion on it before taking it to be analyzed," Yagami explained.

"A valve," Fred pondered, hand on his chin as he stood in a more serious and hard-thinking pose than any of them, even his oldest friends, had seen from him before. L climbed out of his seat, shuffling toward the others with Light in tow. He stopped and stood before the chief, allowing Light to fall in between himself and Fred.

"Maybe it broke off when you kicked it down," Light muttered to the quiet detective. Matsuda, still full of inappropriate excitement over finding a tangible clue at last, couldn't resist.

"Kicked it?" he gushed. "You mean you actually _fought_ the shinigami, Ryuuzaki?"

"Hardly, Matsuda-san," Light scoffed, as L's attention was all on the new piece of evidence before him. "He just kicked it away when it was attacking Velma, and it fell backwards onto some overturned chairs."

Matsuda only blinked confusedly at the easy dismissal. Facing the fearsome shinigami in any capacity seemed pretty impressive to him.

"Hey!" Fred said suddenly. "I think I know what this is! It's the pressure valve from a scuba tank!"

"What would a shinigami want with a scuba tank?" Aizawa asked in mocking disbelief.

"It certainly didn't fall off of one of the restaurant's patrons," L muttered, chewing his thumb mechanically as he turned over the possibilities in his mind.

"It wouldn't be the first time we've come across a monster that uses them," Fred continued. "The man in the costume may be using the air from the tanks to propel him when he flies." L released his thumb, eyes wide and shining with realization.

"That's it..," he mumbled, hand shooting down to dig a sugar cube out of his pocket.

"What's it?" Light wondered as his captor popped the fuel into his mouth. L quickly crunched and swallowed, his face suddenly becoming something like a frown.

"What Watari's men found..," he revealed, carefully observing his audience. "Daphne's clothing and belongings were retrieved from a rooftop just two blocks from the alley where she was abducted. If the shinigami uses the air tanks to fly, this broken valve might explain why he couldn't dump her things at a safer distance..."

"Her clothes..?" Fred whispered, face pale. Behind him, Shaggy and Scooby slowly stood from their seats and approached the group.

"A common practice in such kidnappings," L calmly rationalized, "typically done only to rid the victim of any hidden devices that could be tracked. There is no reason to assume any more sinister reason than that..."

"Y-you," Fred stammered, hands balling into fists at his sides, "you son of a _bitch_! You don't know anything! You don't know _what _that sick freak wants with her!" L jumped back at the outburst, eyes as wide as dessert plates.

"Freddie, I..."

"Don't you _dare_ talk so familiarly to me!" the blond fumed. "Don't stand there and act like you're my friend when it's all your fault to begin with! Your theory was _wrong_, Ryuuzaki, but you were too stubborn to admit it!"

"Like, calm down, man," Shaggy said softly, coming up to place a supportive hand on his friend's shoulder.

"No, Shag," Fred seethed, "he knew as well as any of us that neither Light-san nor Misa could have orchestrated the Shinjuku attack yesterday, but he wouldn't let up on them. Well, now the _real_ Kira has Daphne, and thanks to this wild goose chase, we've got practically no leads on him!"

"Fred-san," Light interjected, "as much as I agree with you, I know that Ryuuzaki is only trying to be thorough..."

"Don't bother defending him," Aizawa interrupted. "This is exactly what I was saying yesterday – he won't listen to reason, and now more innocent people are dead and one of our own in danger."

"Aizawa-san..," Light pleaded.

"No, Light," the teen's father said softly, "he's right. I've stood by Ryuuzaki's methods all this time, no matter how extreme, but this has all gone too far." He turned weary eyes on L, hunched before him in silence. The aging chief sighed, returning the evidence bag to an inner pocket of his suit jacket. L watched him carefully, but said nothing in his own defense. The others paused around them, invisible spectators to the two detectives.

Finally, Soichiro stood straight and tall, nearly dwarfing the slouching L, and looked him in the eye.

"Ryuuzaki," he said at last, "it's time you let my son go."

Empty black eyes blinked slowly before turning away from the chief's resilient browns. L's left hand reached deep into his jeans pocket, past the sugar cubes and half-melted candies, and pulled out the end of a string.

"Light-kun," he said quietly, eyes downcast at the string as he offered his free hand to the boy. Hesitantly, Light complied and held out his own hand to hover above L's. He grunted in surprise when the genius gripped the cuff on his wrist firmly, his other hand pulling the rest of the string from his pocket, revealing a glittering key dangling from the end. Taking hold of the key in an uncharacteristically normal fashion, L unlocked the cuff with a heavy click.

Light held his hand still, obvious shock and disbelief freezing him in place. The cuff was off, revealing the wrist he as so accustomed to having hidden, raw red wounds the only evidence of its brief state of imprisonment. Freedom didn't seem to register in his mind until L pulled the empty cuff away, still holding the steel bracelet in his hand as he deftly removed his own.

"You are to remain living here for the time being, but your actions will be monitored only by camera," L deadpanned. Light could only stare at his enigmatic friend as he let the cuffs and chain fall from his hand, clanking loudly as they hit the hard floor. The soft tink of the key followed, and L silently turned away to shuffle toward his desk.

The rest were stricken speechless, looking hesitantly at each other, at Light, at the discarded pile of chain on the floor, until L spoke again.

"We must get back to work," he said coldly, standing before his chair, as if debating whether or not it was worth sitting down yet. "Are there any more opinions before we begin planning possible rescue operations?"

The room was quiet for a moment, the reduced team standing unsurely still, until Fred mustered the courage to speak up again.

"We, uh," he began, voice wavering and subdued compared to his former angry tone, "we need Velma here for this. We shouldn't make any major decisions without her..."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that," L muttered, staring intently at the monitors, though his eyes were hazy and unfocused.

"Where is she, anyway?" Matsuda wondered.

"In her room," Light softly told him, cradling his sore wrist against his chest. "She hasn't come out since we got back from the restaurant." Matsuda hushed, suddenly taking great interest in his shoes and looking ashamed for having even asked.

"Well," Fred said quietly, turning to face Shaggy and Scooby, "I guess one of us should..."

"I will fetch her," L spoke up suddenly, turning away from the sea of screens. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he slowly made his way toward the glass stairs that led up to the first floor of guest rooms.

"You really think it's a good idea for _you_ to go?" the blond asked as L's bare foot came to rest on the first cold step. The disheveled detective paused, looking up the stairs blankly even as the others stared, daring him to respond.

"It must be me."

The others could only stand and watch him methodically ascend.

* * *

Bare toes buried into the soft carpet fibers before the locked door – at least, he_ told_ himself it was locked. L cursed his own hesitance to try the knob, instead standing without a sound, knuckles curling and uncurling at his sides as he carefully considered whether it was really even worth knocking. He knew that Velma would be the hardest of all to deal with now, but this was his own decision. He would face her now and get it over with. The only way that she would come out of her room and put all her energy toward helping them come up with a plan, he reasoned, was for her to take out her anger on him now rather than later.

She was important to the investigation, he had to keep reminding himself. As much as he'd prefer to go back to work himself, with or without the support of the others, it simply wasn't possible to handle this case on his own. That much had been painfully obvious from the beginning, though his pride had suffered more and more for it since the day he'd first met in person with the Japanese task force.

Unfortunately, dealing with other people had never been easy for him – that had always been Velma's strong point, in his mind. Her social prowess might not have been so obvious as that of her lively friends, but she'd always had a knack for gaining people's trust. She had once managed to pull even L himself out of his shell, after all.

Finally, he raised his right hand – a bit too quickly, as the bare wrist still felt unnaturally light – and tapped his knuckles on the shiny oaken door, forgoing the use of the brass knocker. The only response from inside was a soft groan, but it didn't sound like a refusal. Cautiously, he rested his hand on the knob, turning it slightly, quietly, and found that it was actually unlocked.

No turning back now, he thought grimly, gripping the handle more firmly to open the door. He eased it apart from the frame, inch by inch, almost afraid that if he allowed her to see who her visitor was, she'd immediately turn him away.

"Has there been any news about Daphne yet?" a shaking voice asked, obviously rough from crying. She spoke English now – was it he, or her American friends that she expected to be on the other side of that door?

He knew it would be better to tell her the facts outright, but he took a quick breath before answering.

"Watari's team found her belongings a short while ago," he replied in subtly accented English, still standing behind the door, though it was open enough now for him to pass through it. Even through the wooden barrier, he could hear her breath hitch within the room.

"...L?"

He winced at the name, but decided her current state of emotional upset was the only reason that she didn't bother using his Ryuuzaki alias, and after all, there were no bugs in this room to hear her. Hand still clutching the doorknob, he stepped fully into the dim room. The only light came from the bathroom; it cast a fluorescent glow onto the white sheets of the bed and shadows across everything else, including Velma herself. She sat in the floor beside her bed, hidden in the tall mattress's shadow. She held her knees to her chest, face hidden, in something like a fetal position. The bulky acrylic arms of her familiar sweater were wrapped tightly around the shins left bare by the dress she still wore. He knew the orange and red were there, but in the dark every color seemed only a tinted grey.

"All of her possessions and clothing were found dumped on a rooftop," L explained, softly closing the door behind him, unintentionally darkening the room even further. "The task force found physical evidence at the restaurant as well, so we may get fingerprints or DNA information on her attacker..."

"This should never have happened," Velma muttered into her sleeve. "I should have known better..." L took two cautious steps closer to her.

"Velma, none of this is your fault," he ventured. She lifted her face just slightly, keeping her gaze away from him as she slowly moved to pick up her glasses from the carpet beside her.

"Yes, it is," she coldly argued, delicately bending out the arms of her glasses in one hand. "It's my fault for trusting you again, after Harajuku..."

"We have evidence already," L reiterated, quietly shuffling forward until he stood just a couple of feet from her. "It will only be a matter of time before we find the culprit, and Daphne with him."

"Evidence," she chuckled darkly, sliding the glasses into place over her eyes. "It's always about evidence with you, isn't it?"

"I'm a _detective_, Velma..."

"You put all of us in danger to get the least little bit of evidence," she said, cutting him off, "and now look at you – lost one of your investigators _and_ your prime suspect. The great detective L seems to have finally been proven wrong."

"It has not been proven yet," he corrected, crouching down beside her. "Just because I have freed Light from my personal surveillance does not mean that he is freed from suspicion."

"You won't let him go, even now," she mumbled, black square-rimmed eyes at last turning to see him. "I'm starting to think you're obsessed..."

"I'm in charge of this investigation," he deadpanned, toes wiggling on the carpet, "and I do not take my suspects lightly. He will remain under watch until I am one-hundred percent convinced of his innocence."

"I'm well aware of the way you run things, and how you handle your suspects, but I'm in charge of my team. I'm responsible for whatever happens to them," she asserted, idly pulling at her sweater sleeve. "Do you know anything about responsibility, L?"

"I'm responsible for solving this case." She briefly tried to meet his blank eyes, but they were focused straight ahead, into the darker corners of the room.

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about _personal_ responsibility – about your obligations as L the human being, not L the detective." He looked at her now, eyes slightly widened.

"I was unaware that the two were separate people."

"They used to be one and the same," she mused, only holding his gaze for a moment before tearing her eyes away. "But I think you must have lost your humanity somewhere along the way..."

"Velma," he said softly, "I am not heartless." She huffed, hugging her legs tighter to her, the fine wet lines on her cheeks highlighted by the light reflecting off her glasses.

"You sure as hell act like it," she grumbled. "Don't you have any respect for life any more? You used to _care_ about people, L. You used to want to solve cases to help them..."

"I may pursue justice in my cases, but I only choose the cases that interest me most," he argued. She looked at him seriously, watching his long fingers squeeze and release his denim knees again and again.

"What about the mad bombings, L? Did you put those terrorists to justice for_ fun_?" His head snapped up, a rare unmasked scowl on his face.

"That case was an exception," he flatly stated.

"I wonder, was that the real reason you became like this? Or did it happen later, perhaps in Los Angeles?" she sarcastically pondered. "It's not as if I ever knew you well enough to tell when the changes occurred... But then, maybe if I had been a better friend, then you wouldn't seem so detached now."

"Friend?" he asked, voice and expression softer. Velma smiled ever slightly.

"Yeah," she decided, "I was your friend, L. I don't know if you were ever mine, though..."

"I'm not sure what you mean..," he said with a frown. She turned away, anger evident in her brown eyes.

"What I mean is, friendship requires something of _both_ people, but you were never willing to make any effort – and when bigger and better opportunities came along, you didn't hesitate to leave me behind." She shifted, finally letting her legs slide flat out along the floor in front of her, arms limply resting in her lap. "Maybe you never needed friends, L, but _I do_."

"We _will_ find her, Velma," he sighed, staring at his bare toes. "You needn't worry so much."

"Don't try to downplay this!" she exclaimed, fingers fisting in the loose hem of her dress. "Maybe you're willing to risk your life for a case, but I'm not. Friends are the only things in the _world_ that are worth that much sacrifice, L!" L blinked slowly, carefully raising his head to study her determined face.

"Did I ever... mean that much to you?" Velma met his gaze for a fleeting moment before snapping her eyes away, the slight blush on her freckled cheeks hidden by the merciful shadows.

"How dare you ask something like that, at a time like this!" she fumed, emphatically crossing her arms over her chest.

"I assure you, I am as concerned for Daphne as anyone," L reasoned, returning his attention to the floor. "That is why I have come up here. Your input is necessary for us to formulate a plan of rescue."

"I'll bet it is," Velma muttered, picking at a loose thread at the edge of her sleeve. "You're 'in charge of this investigation,' after all, and I know you'd rather figure it out yourself. But the others don't trust your judgment any more, do they?"

"That isn't true," he maintained, looking sideways at her, fingers fiddling with the folds of his jeans, as if missing their usual forks and teacup handles.

"They're not idiots, L," she said sternly, "and they can see through your tricks and your childish stubborn act just as well as I can. It doesn't take a genius to see how corrupted you've become..."

"Didn't I already admit that to you?" he asked quietly. "This is my _job_, Velma. It's tactics like these that have led me to solve the world's toughest cases."

"And at what cost?" she demanded, turning bodily toward him, her hands waving in time with her ranting. "You've been wrapped up in this _job_ since you were fifteen! How much of your life have you missed out on? How many milestones have you skipped over – how many basic human experiences have you never experienced? Have you even taken a single day off in the last ten years?"

"Your fifteenth birthday..," he mumbled, pulling his hand toward his mouth. "I believe that was my last day off."

"Yeah," she agreed with a critical snort, "because when yours rolled around, you couldn't be bothered. Not even for a simple goodbye."

"I had a case, you know that," he retorted, thumb resting just below his lip. "It was the biggest I'd ever worked on, and I needed to leave the House to do it." The digit slid up into his mouth, teeth instinctively clamping around it.

"And you never came back," Velma spat, turning back again and furiously wringing her hands in her sweater sleeves. "Whatever happened to your promise to always visit the House between cases? How many times did you actually live up to that?"

"Velma..," he exasperatedly muttered around his thumb.

"Forget it," she sighed, finally letting go of the stretched-out sleeves. "It's not as if your priorities in life were ever a secret. I was stupid to think you ever gave a damn about anyone but yourself..."

"Velma," L said sternly, placing both hands back on his knees again, "that's enough." Velma shot a nasty glare at him as he began to uncurl from his crouch and stand up.

"We have more pressing issues to deal with," he explained before she could reply. Her face softened and turned away.

"...I'll come downstairs in a minute," she mumbled, staring down at her lap.

"If your friend's well-being is so important to you..."

"Go on ahead of me, L," she interrupted. "I just want to change clothes first, okay?"

"I hardly see how that is necessary," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Just get out!" she suddenly shouted. L's wide eyes were the only indication of surprise on his stoic face, though the difference could hardly be discerned in the dim light. They remained in silence for a few long moments, she sitting dejected in the shadow of the bed, he standing half-illuminated by the bathroom light beside her, before he finally moved. Soft steps carried him slowly toward the door, but Velma remained rooted to the floor. The door opened, soft yellow light from the hallway briefly lightening the room as he left.

Velma reached behind her to take a pillow from the bed as the door started to close. The shadows overtook her again, but she was surprised to hear no click from the latch. Looking up, she found that the door was still open just an inch, a strip of foreign light still cutting a path across the carpet. She could hear the quiet rustling of his clothes, the slight shaking of the knob still gripped in his hand on the other side, and his disembodied voice, all through the crack in the door.

"I _am_ sorry..."

The light disappeared as the door at last clicked shut. She hugged the pillow to her chest.

* * *

"What do you think it means? Is it just a glitch?"

"As if these systems would have glitches like this..," Aizawa mumbled, muscling in front of Matsuda to get a better look at the screen.

"Mogi-san can be a pretty sneaky guy, you know," the rookie pointed out. "Maybe he just happened to stay out of sight?"

"He's a fairly big guy, Matsuda-san," Light said. "I doubt it's possible for the cameras to miss him."

"Has something happened?" came a neutral voice above them. Shaggy and Scooby looked up to see L at the top of the glass staircase – the others were too enveloped in the glow of the wall of computer monitors to bother.

"Rhe rameras!" Scooby attempted. Shaggy patted his head and took it upon himself to explain the situation.

"There's, like, somethin' weird goin' on with the security cameras," he said as L came down toward them. "Mogi-san just went out the doors a second ago, but, like, the camera feed never showed him leaving."

"Has Watari returned yet?" L demanded, hurrying down the last few steps.

"Not as far as we know," Light informed him. L rounded the slight corner to stand behind the teen. At the bottom corner of the monitor wall, the camera view of the hallway outside the room was still up, as he'd neglected to turn it off after the task force returned from the crime scene. The others had all gathered around the desk, watching the still surveillance footage intently.

"The restroom is just down the opposite hall," the chief pondered. "He should have gone straight across the camera's field of view..."

"I don't understand it," Light said. "I was sitting right here when he walked out the door, but no movement was shown on the camera feed. It's not on a time delay either..."

_Tung tung tung..._

"What the..," Aizawa mumbled, reaching for his pistol.

"There's someone... at the door?" Matsuda squeaked, twisting around to look toward the source of the sudden noise.

"Still, like, nothing showing on the screen," Shaggy gulped as the heavy knocking began again.

_Tung tung tung..._

Shaggy and a whimpering Scooby dove under the desk, teeth chattering loudly enough to vibrate the long-abandoned china teacups above them. L, Light, and Fred moved to stand before the desk as the three Japanese officers, even the shaking Matsuda, aimed their standard-issue weapons at the double doors across the room. The steel door handles began to shake, and Shaggy had to clamp a quick hand around Scooby's muzzle to quiet his frightened yelps. The armed task force approached the doors.

As the heavy gates eased open, the policemen blanched, fingers frozen still around their triggers.

* * *

**A/N:** A very angsty chapter, with a cliffhanger, right before a hiatus? I'm such an evil authoress, I swear... And it prolly seems sucky and choppy, since my muses are half-dead and I can only manage to write a paragraph or two at a time.. Why can't real life leave me alone long enough to get something _done_? x.X;;

But nevertheless, a big thanks to all the wonderful readers who've made it this far! I know many of you have been following this story all along, and I fully appreciate your patience and support. I hope you'll stick around for the second half, even with slower updates. You guys are my main source of motivation, after all!

**Review, please? :D**


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